


Coyotes are Crossing Over

by SAValentine



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Ambiguous Relationships, Arranged Marriage, At Least at Points, Biting, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Morally Ambiguous Character, Mostly With the Violence, Not Exactly a Healthy Relationship, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-04-24 23:31:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14366070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SAValentine/pseuds/SAValentine
Summary: Mairwen had been a slave once in her life. She had thought she had escaped that. Until her Raider party decided to surrender to Caesar's Legion and she was chosen to be married off to Vulpes Inculta.





	1. Give me a flag I won't wave it.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of an AU and a friend's [Interpretation of Vulpes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14898539)  
> Titles are from 'Coyotes' by Wild Belle

**Flagstaff, Arizona**  
**August 21, 2278**

‘ _You’ll be so happy when you get married!_ ’ Her mother’s voice rang in her head as she stood there, staring at her husband-to-be. ' _Your love for them, knowing that you’re there to support each other…_ ’

Her mother had trailed off then, eyes full of happy tears and apologizing for getting so sentimental. Her father had been there to tease her about it. She’d always seen their marriage as an ideal. How dedicated they were to each other. They dealt with some of the worst of the vault, but they’d see each other and **all** of that would fade away.

Mairwen was fighting back her own tears, biting down on her own lip so hard she knew that the moment she moved them apart, there would be blood. Her wedding was not everything her mother had promised it’d be. She wasn’t even sure how she’d ended up in this position. She felt like a lamb led to slaughter.

She knew that in the Legion, marriage was a fancy title for another type of slavery. And she’d heard the whispered rumours regarding her betrothed. He was not a kind man. She wasn’t surprised by that. There wasn’t room for kindness in the Wasteland itself, she didn’t see why the Legion would be any different. But the rumours spoke of more than just unkindness. She was expecting someone fearsome.

She tried not to let herself tense at every movement. She could survive this. She wouldn’t let them see her cry. She couldn’t let them see how much it bothered her. She avoided looking at him, even when she was told to. She focused on his eyebrows, or just above his head, anywhere but his eyes.

After it was over, she was led away. To her new “home.” The word tasted bitter on her tongue. Her collar was gone,  but she could still **_feel_ ** its weight. It wasn’t long before she was alone with him. And the tension was finally starting to show in the lines of her body. She moved stiffly, and when he stepped towards her, she took two quick steps back.

She still refused to look at him even then. She didn’t say anything about it, either. She merely kept chewing on her lip. She could taste the copper on her tongue but it didn’t stop her.

He only tried approaching her one more time before he turned in for the night, but her response was the same. The house-women showed her around. Showed her where her things would be, gave her clothes to sleep in. The thing barely covered her.

❝ It’s your wedding night, you’re supposed to– ❞ One of them had started, and her head snapped to glare at the woman.

 _ **❝ I know what I’m supposed to do**_.❞ She hissed, every ounce of **hate** she’d been feeling dripping off of those words.

She dressed into it regardless and, after a while, she climbed into bed with him. She warred with herself while she lay there, staring at his sleeping form. By all accounts, she _knew_ that the house-women expected her to wake him and fuck him. Wedding night and all. But she did not want that.

She might be punished if she didn’t. She should just get it over with already. She was going to have to deal with this until she could get out of there anyway. She pushed herself unto her elbow, taking that time to actually look at him.

  
And it was then that she was struck by how young he looked. Maybe even younger than she was. 

Her hand moved forward to touch him of its own accord, but she stopped herself short, pulling back her hand. She didn’t want to do this. She wasn’t going to slip right back into that role. He had been the one to fall asleep, anyway. She could put it off another day, surely.

She comforted herself with that idea, sliding back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. And she tried to sleep. Instead, she spent the night trying not to cry. It didn’t work very well, but at least she’d managed not to wake him up with it.

She maybe got an hour or two of sleep that night.

She awoke when he did, sitting up abruptly. She stared at him for a moment, her body on alert but her mind catching up. He largely ignored her, getting ready for his day.

She ate breakfast with him in silence though, the house-women insisted on it. They were trying to train her on how best to avoid trouble. On how to _serve_ him. She appreciated their attempts to help her settle, but she didn’t like it. Resentment was already building inside of her.

The idea of an arranged marriage itself wasn’t something she was completely opposed to. Her father’s family had done it before the war. It wasn’t uncommon in the Vaults, either. But she’d never wanted it for herself. Her mother had instilled too much romance for that. And that wasn't _quite_ what this was. 

Something tickled her curiosity though and she needed to ask him. She tried to figure out how to phrase the question, her brows furrowed and she chewed on her lip, fork hanging in the air. After a moment, she spoke.

❝ Did you pick me out or was I just given to you? ❞ She asked, actually looking at him this time. He met her gaze, almost surprised by the question. He paused a moment before answering.

❝ You were chosen for me. It is how things are. ❞ It was all he said and they sat there reading each other for a moment.

She continued to chew on her lip. She didn’t know what to make of that. He just accepted it. She didn’t even know where to begin with that. She was curious about his attitude though. She needed to know how much danger she was in with him. She’d heard he’d be leaving soon anyway. If he was going to be one of **_those_ ** men, she needed to know now.

❝ That’s fucking **stupid**. ❞ She said, her lip curling, the distaste plain in her voice. ❝ That’s not supposed to be what marriage is about. ❞

❝ And what is it supposed to be about? ❞ He asked, his voice almost bored, but not mocking. She paused. She couldn’t tell why he was asking her.

❝ It’s supposed to be about love. ❞ She answered. But the words brought a swell of emotion up through her. She could feel the tears stinging her eyes. She stood abruptly. ❝ I’m not hungry. ❞

With that, she turned and left the room. He didn’t talk to her before he left for the day. And she spent her time exploring the house she was supposed to live in. She tried to get some sleep during the day, finding herself restless.

She couldn’t get more than half an hour at a time. A little after mid-day the house women came in and began to fill the tub with warm water. She didn’t even notice until it was halfway done.

❝ What are you doing? ❞ She asked, screwing up her face.

❝ You should bathe before your husband returns. ❞ Said one of them and then looked at her pointedly. ❝ And you should attend to his needs tonight as well. ❞

❝ Fuck that. ❞ She snorted. ❝ You take a bath. ❞

The woman stared at her hard. She stared back, not caring about what she should or shouldn’t do as the man’s “wife”. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him. She wanted him to know exactly how fucked up she found this situation. The woman sighed after a moment.

❝ We have scented oils for your hair.❞ She told her and immediately Mairwen perked up. She shifted in place but eventually agreed. Her vanity about her hair won out. Her hair smelled like faintly like honey. She recognized that, but not the plant that caused the scent.

Afterward, she found his books at once and chose one to read. She settled in on the bed, curling the blanket around her, and read to pass the rest of the day. Which was where she was when he returned. She actually looked peaceful, relaxed, even. Until he came into the room.

❝ I didn’t know you read.❞ He said. She jumped immediately and scowled at him.

❝ Of course I read. I grew up in a Vault, it’s standard education.❞ She paused and gave him a pointed look. ❝ For everyone.❞

She wanted to say more, prepared to argue the moment he said something about women not being intelligent when the house-women came in and began filling the tub with hot water again. This time for him. She stared, knowing what that meant, and left the room, brushing past him. She didn’t want to stay there and risk him deciding that she needed to “attend to him”.  
  
The thought made her sick and she set about to reading away from him. Out of sight, out of mind, hopefully. She was so anxious though, she could barely concentrate. She knew she read the same paragraph over and over again. It took her his entire bath to make it through a page.

And then it was a shared meal again. She wasn’t hungry then either. Her stomach felt heavy. She was worried once again that he was going to make her fuck him. She didn’t want to touch him. She didn’t even want to share a bed with him. She wanted to get her mind off of it.

❝ Have you ever been out there? The Wasteland. ❞ She asked him, absently stabbing at her food with the fork.

❝ Not truly. Only in Legion lands or the borders. ❞ He answered. Then paused and looked up at her. ❝ You did though, didn’t you? ❞

❝ Yeah. Left home, explored, never looked back.❞ She said, looking at her plate. She could hear the tinge of sadness in her own voice. She was a very long way from home. She hated it. This made her wish she **had** looked back.

❝ And now that you’re within the Legion, you’re safe.❞ He said, his tone belying how much he actually believed that. She scowled at him.

❝ Firstly, I was doing just **fine** out there. I _liked_ it out there. Traveling, living under the stars, doing what I wanted–❞ She cut herself off there. She didn’t want to go into what those things were with him. She didn’t think he’d appreciate her extolling the 'virtues’ of fucking and drinking. ❝ I’m not really any better in here. I don’t get to choose anything.❞

She stood again and left the table. She’d chosen that conversation this time, and still, she’d ended up angry. All of this made her furious. She needed to get out of there. She needed to get her freedom. This time she wouldn’t have to worry about getting anyone else out, either.

She went to the bed and sat there, brushing her hair as she tried to calm herself down. She was beginning to braid it when he came in. She pointedly ignored him, even when he sat down on the bed as well. He reached out to touch her again, his hand brushing awkwardly across her hair and her shoulder as if he was unsure. She stiffened and pulled away.

❝ No…❞ The words came out more of a plea than she’d meant them to. Her hands had stopped braiding and she waited for him to do more, to force her into something, but it didn’t happen.

He sat there for a moment more, as if waiting for her to change her mind, and then grabbed one of his books. She finished her hair while he read and curled into the blankets, facing away from him when she was done.

But once again, she didn’t sleep. She couldn’t. She listened to him read, her whole body tense. Especially when he put the book away. She worried he would try again. Instead he simply laid down, his back to her.

Moments passed and he didn’t move towards her. The tension finally began to ease out of her. Maybe he wasn’t going to be terrible. Not that that was worth staying. She still had to get out.

❝ Good night. ❞ She muttered, more to herself than to him.


	2. If It Gets me Free

****

 

**Flagstaff, Arizona**    
**June 14th, 2279**

Mairwen had gotten comfortable in her gilded cage. She was largely left alone and given some measure of freedom. She was rarely harassed by the Legionaries due to her husband’s status and reputation. But a cage was still a cage, and it rankled her when she was reminded.

One of the traders had brought her honey. They’d told her that there was more, pre-war form the looks of it, and it wasn’t far, either.

She had packed a small bag with her things and set out to find this stash of honey without a second thought. And she was stopped. She’d been literally dragged home. No amount of explaining convinced them. No amount of pleading.

❝You are the wife of Vulpes Inculta.❞ She was scolded, to which she only scowled. ❝You cannot leave. It is for your own safety.❞ 

She pouted about it for three full days in which she didn’t leave her home. It wasn’t until one of the house women came with more honey from the trader, who’d heard about what she’d tried to do. She visited him later, and he’d apparently laughed so hard her at her that he’d given himself a stitch in his side.

But most of her days were spent in relative boredom. She’d cultivated a certain schedule. She would wake in the morning, tend to the garden that he’d apparently planted, then she walked as far on as she could before returning home.

She’d often collect what plants she could on the way, and spend some time making them into something useful. She usually used those things to exchange with the caravan traders instead of using the “allowance” she received for her husband being out at war. She didn’t want to feel indebted to him. But she usually had to. Her herbs didn’t sell for much.

Then she’d bath and read and stay inside for the rest of the day. She’d tried socializing early on. The isolation, after all, was the worst for her. But it didn’t take. The legionaries, while usually not being outright rude, were not friendly. The other slaves, those who were laborers, generally didn’t like her, even when she tried to help.

And the other wives were the worst of them. They knew better than anyone how her husband’s reputation was. And they’d bring it up. They’d take jabs at her regarding it. Gossip. They’d been nice at first, of course. But then she’d seen how they treated the labourers and got mad at them. Repeatedly. She’d argued with them over it. Ever since they’d given her a hard time as well.

So she stuck to a relatively predictable schedule, allowing herself occasional flights of fancy because it made people comfortable. It made her comfortable. She’d found the places, and times, when various areas had lax monitoring. She found the quickest paths out of there. She paid attention to who took note of her and who made a point to ignore her.

A routine made them all more likely to ignore her. And the occasional flights of fancy kept it from being too unbelievable. There were still a few others from her old raider group there, and they wouldn’t trust the sudden change. But they would trust the idea of her becoming comfortable. _**Lazy**_.

To an extent, it was true, however. She enjoyed the relative luxury she hadn’t enjoyed since she’d left the Vault. She could have left a few months ago, but she stayed. Instead, she excused it as cementing her plans: checking and double checking every detail.

So she wasn’t expecting it when it happened. She was reclined in bed, enraptured by the book. It was a new one. She’d made a deal with one of the traders to bring in books especially for her. Some people knew her husband liked to read, so no one questioned it. She was being a ’ _good wife_ ’, after all, tending to his house while he was gone, getting him gifts for when he returned.

But the door slammed open, startling her out of her reverie. Her eyes were wide and she wondered for a moment what was going on. And then she saw him. Her husband. Vulpes. And he didn’t look great. In fact, he looked terrible. She stared. He stared back at her. He looked at her as if he had forgotten she’d even be there.

She didn’t know what to do. Whether she should scramble out of bed and help him, or just leave him alone. Or just ignore him. He looked like he needed help. The nice part of her won out, and she stood to help him. He was still staring at her and it clicked suddenly why he was looking so shocked. In addition to all the books she’d gotten, she’d also bartered for a relatively nice sheer robe to lounge in. [For her husband’s sake, of course.]

And she’d taken to wearing it around the house. It was only ever her and the house women. And they saw her naked often enough anyway. But he hadn’t. She flushed with embarrassment, once again caught between her choices. He didn’t, however. He blinked at her for a moment longer, and then crawled into the bed, his movements stiff and tortuously slow.

She stared at him. He didn’t even say anything to her before he fell asleep and she wasn’t even sure how to take that. Having him here was so _strange_. She’d spent nearly a year living here without him. She’d almost forgotten that it wasn’t **her** home.

She quickly changed her clothes and fled the room, fixing herself a cup of tea. Some days she had tried to pretend she had chosen this. That she truly cared about the husband that wasn’t there. She let herself live within that fantasy sometimes. It never soothed her for very long. Reality would come back sharply into focus and would make the truth hurt all the more.

Moments like this.

She spent that night crying at the table, fell asleep there. Only to be moved to the bed when one of the house-women came to check on her. She’d been shaken awake and told to get back into bed.

Vulpes was still in there. Still in bed. This time he was awake. She felt his gaze on her as she walked in. She didn’t look at him. She just curled up into the blankets and fell asleep as best she could.

She didn’t expect him to be there when she woke up, but he was.

She _tried_ to go about her day as normally as she could. She avoided him as much as she could. And he let her. He let her bathe in peace, he let her sleep in peace.

It wasn’t until a couple days later that she put the pieces together of why he was being so willing to stay away from her. She’d left the book she wanted to read in the bedroom and found him in there.

She didn’t know how she hadn’t noticed just how many bandages he had wrapped around him under she saw the blood leaking through as he sat there removing them.

His hands shook, and she watched him as he began trying to wrap new ones on. He dropped the roll of them and his movements were stiff when he reached for it again. He was struggling with it and she frowned. Without much thought, she ducked out of the room and grabbed a bottle of purified water and a clean rag and slipped onto the bed behind him.

Gently, she pushed his hands away, taking a hold of the bandages. He stiffened at her touch and looked back at her in surprise. But she ignored him, wetting the rag.

She swiped it over the wounds he pulled open across his back. Some of them looked like lashings. She knew what that meant and it tugged at her, ate away at her. She winced the first time when he did, but didn’t bring attention to it otherwise. He should’ve done this himself. They’d get infected.

She stopped there and remembered that she’d managed to make something that would help. She went to the other room and came back. He had once again picked up the bandages and had begun to try to wrap himself.

And once again, she pushed away his hands.

❝ This might sting.❞ She warned him before she started to apply the poultice. She gently spread it over the wounds she could find before she took the bandages and wrapped them around him. Tight enough that she knew that they’d stay put.

She was grateful that he didn’t speak during it. Didn’t look at her. He didn’t ask her _why_ she was helping him. She wasn’t entirely sure herself. She sat there for a moment after having wrapped his bandages, frowning at his back.

He looked worse than she had earlier thought. So completely covered in injuries that she understood exactly why he’d been leaving her alone. Her hand lingered on his shoulder. For a moment she leaned forward, intent on leaving a kiss on his shoulder, but changed her mind at the last moment, leaning her forehead against him there instead.

It was probably not a great idea, but the urge to comfort him had swelled up in her. She pulled back, moving off the bed, and went to fetch her book. Instead of going back out, she moved to the other side of the bed and reclined, opening the book to read there instead.

There were a few days like that. She mostly went about her day fairly normally, but she was spending more time at home, she was focusing on getting things he’d need as well. She’d come back and take care of him, tending to the wounds he’d gotten as best as she could. She wasn’t any kind of doctor or healer, but she’d learned enough to keep herself from dying. She hoped it would help.

She kept scolding herself for it, though. The nagging reminder that he essentially owned her kept cropping up in the back of her mind. She’d pull away then. Hold back.

That bothered her as well. She’d spent so long there. She was constantly worried about even being too friendly talking to people, much less touching them. One legionary who’d been too friendly with her had been flogged. And the house women said he’d gotten off easy since her husband wasn’t there.

She could touch Vulpes though, and she wanted to. She just wanted to be able to touch **_someone_**. And she _tried_ to hold back with him, but his wounded state made it hard. She knew those lash marks were Legion. Anger welled up in her when she thought about it, but she’d have to shove it down, hard, each time.

She **shouldn** ’t care.

But she did.

It was a week into him being home when it happened, though. She was asleep next to him when the memories came flooding into her mind. She remembered when she was first captured by slavers. The cage she woke up in. The man who took her, clamped the bomb collar around her neck, dragged her away–

She woke up with a shout, crying out. She didn’t remember the words, but she was crying, shaking. And in the bed of the man who owned her.

❝ Be quiet, cupita. I’m trying to sleep.❞ He muttered, annoyed, and she stared at him for a moment.

❝ Fuck you.❞ She hissed, crawling out of the bed and muttered another before she left the room. ❝  **Fuck _you_**.❞ 

She couldn’t stop herself from crying, curling up on the couch and staying there until the house-women checked on her. They pushed her back to the bed she shared with him and she just couldn’t do it.  
  
They shut the bedroom door behind her and she went to the chair she’d dragged in there months before, on the far side of the room, and she sat, pulling her knees to her chest and watching him. She remembered why she didn’t want this.

She stayed away that day. Once she had stopped crying. She tended the garden and walked as far as she could, finding a nice patch to sit and watch the day go by. She was tired and dirty and hungry by the time she came back. And she couldn’t look at him. She wasn’t even sure if he understood what had happened.

The house woman scolded her and she glared. ❝  **Fuck** you. **Fuck _all_ ** of this. **Fuck** your _god damn_ ‘should’ and 'should not’s!❞ 

She turned her gaze to Vulpes, he was eating at the table, and her outburst had drawn his attention.

❝ The **collar** isn’t any lighter now, is it, _**husband**_? ❞ She hissed, not waiting for his reaction before turning and disappearing into the bedroom.

She changed and curled up back on the chair again, knees tucked under her chin and simply stared at the wall. She winced visibly when he came in. She didn’t look at him until he stood in front of her. Then, she stared at him. His expression was unreadable, but he didn’t seem angry.

❝ You should eat, cupita. ❞ He told her, and only noticed then that he was holding something out for her. Carefully she took it. He didn’t say anything else, just turned and went to change. She stared at the fruit instead of him.

Banana yucca fruit. Likely from one of them that’d he’d planted in the garden that she’d been tending to while he was gone. Her eyes welled up with tears. This whole thing was fucked up. She didn’t want to be here.

But she ate, bathed, braided her hair and went to bed with him. This time, she curled around him, needing to touch him, to touch anyone, to anchor herself in the present. She wasn’t sure how he’d take it. Whether the touch would make him think she wanted to fuck or not, but she did it nonetheless.

She needed to. It left **such** a bitter taste in her mouth.

She still cried that night. But she did it quietly, careful not to wake him.

The rest of the time with him there was strange. She continued her careful balance of affection. Trying to keep distance from him. Trying to make sure that he didn’t decide that he wanted more. She flinched away from him at first, but he seemed uninterested in pushing.

It always seemed like it was painful for him to move. So she let herself relax. She went back to tending to him. She’d run her hands along his arms, she’d lean her head on his shoulder. She’d touch the top of his head sometimes when he was seated and she walked by.

He didn’t try to touch her too often. She still flinched most of the time, but there were times when she’d let him. When she’d even lean into it. They were always small things. Emulating the gesture she had given just before.

It wasn’t about him. She knew that. She didn’t think he did, but he never said anything, so she didn’t correct him. And he kept calling her 'cupita’. Every time he did, she’d stop, and **stare** at him in disbelief. She knew what it meant. Well, she knew what it translated to. 'Beloved'.

She didn’t know _why_ he was calling her that.

She was afraid to ask.

They hadn’t fallen into some facsimile of domestic bliss either. His presence rankled her, reminded her of where she was. **What** she was. And he stayed distant. Whether it was because he was healing or because it was because of who he was, or because he didn’t actually care for her. She didn’t know. Didn’t know if it really mattered.

She hated that he was so hard to read. She was usually much better at it. With other people, at least.

It was when she found herself one morning curled around him, her face against his back, when she realized she needed to get out of there after he left.

Without thinking, she’d pressed her lips to his back. Gently. Careful not to hurt him.

And she realized she hadn’t even actually kissed him before. They hadn’t had sex, they hadn’t kissed. There was no real intimacy between them. She was only touching him, looking to him for comfort because he was there and she was allowed to.

She needed to leave. She was locking the chains around herself this time. She knew what it was called if this continued. Whether he’d wanted this or not, whether he was terrible or not, she wasn’t going to fall like that. She had to leave before it got to that point.

She spent that morning in the garden again, trying not to cry. She’d stayed too long, gotten too comfortable. As soon as he left, she would too. She had to. _A gilded cage was still a cage._

She reminded herself of that every day. She couldn’t stop herself from being affectionate at that point, she’d already grown comfortable with it in that short time. But she couldn’t let it get any further. She couldn’t let herself actually _**care**_ about him.

So it was a relief when he told her he would be returning to New Vegas. She’d muted herself long enough. She couldn’t stay there and cling to the man who owned her for the sake of not feeling so _lonely_.

She set about her plan. She’d give it a month. Make sure everything was still working the same, that they still viewed her as the same easily passed over presence, and she’d leave.

She knew the time she’d need to leave. She knew the path. She knew which things she’d take with her. She’d chosen only things she could carry in a pack she could hide. She had to accept that she wouldn’t be getting back her things.

She could ask Vulpes if he knew where her locket was. The one with her family’s picture locked inside. But she was afraid she’d find out it had been sold off when she’d first been made into a slave here.

It would come back to her someday. She forced herself to believe that.

When the morning came that he would leave, she didn’t want to leave the bed at first. She kept her arms wrapped around him. She pressed her head into his chest for a time, thinking over how much things would change. Wondering if he would even care. Beyond that he’d lost a wife. His **property**. She sighed at that thought, and gently shook him.

❝ You need to get up, Vulpes.❞ She told him, sitting up in the bed. She wasn’t actually sure when he needed to leave by, but she assumed it was earlier in the day like it had been last time.

❝ Let me _sleep_ cupita.❞ Her muttered, annoyance in his voice. She frowned and the word dropped a stone in her stomach. If he did actually care at all, this might hurt him. Pushing that thought aside, she shook him again.

❝ Vulpes.❞ Her tone was more scolding this time. He opened his eyes to glare at her blearily. Her sigh was overly dramatic and she rolled out of the bed. ❝ Fine. You’re the one who knows when you should be headed out.❞ 

He was still slow to get out of bed. She managed to dress in the meantime. She felt his eyes on her at times. She’d gotten comfortable changing in front of him, but just then she felt self-conscious all over again. Worried about how he’d view her in those moments. She scolded herself for those thoughts.

She dressed nicely though. She sat with him for breakfast and watched him carefully. Studying his face. He caught her, meeting her gaze and she flushed. She looked away, unable to keep that eye contact with him. She said nothing for awhile, finishing her own food and waiting until he finished his before she spoke.

❝ You don’t know how long you’ll be gone this time, do you?❞ Her voice was quiet, but she managed to look back over at him. He stared at her for a moment before he answered.

❝ Not until after we take New Vegas.❞ Was his answer.

She nodded, chewing on her lower lip as she considered it. There were so many things she could say to him. She could let him know, somehow, that she wasn’t going to be there whenever that was. She considered each of them. He seemed to read something else in her expression because he spoke again instead.

❝ Don’t worry, we will defeat the NCR.❞ He told her, and the words surprised her. He was… Trying to comfort her? The idea was strange to her. He stood while he spoke. ❝ I won’t fail again.❞ 

She didn’t know what to say to that. She wasn’t even sure how to take his confidence. She didn’t know if it were true or not. She wasn’t even sure if the second half had been meant for her. Instead, she just nodded.

❝ Of course.❞ She stood and watched him as he gathered his things and slipped on his armour, running her hands over her arms, anxiety chasing her thoughts.

Last time he had left, she had said nothing to him. She’d just let him leave on his own. Hadn’t even _acknowledged_ it. This time she wasn’t doing that. He’d only been home to heal up, and while he’d been distant, he hadn’t been the terror that the whispered rumours had made him out to be.

She wondered where his reputation came from. And if she’d have to worry about that if she left. She couldn’t think about that right then either. She followed him to the door this time, grabbing onto his arm. He turned to face her, that familiar unreadable expression he’d sometimes give her. She knew it meant _**something**_.

She just didn’t know what it was.

❝ Yes, cupita?❞ He asked. She brushed her thumb across his skin for a moment before meeting his gaze.

She hummed slightly as she made her decision. Leaning in, she kissed him. She poured the affection she’d been feeling into it. Her confusion and the lingering doubt. It took him a moment before he kissed back, his hand going to her waist to pull her closer, and when she began to pull away, his teeth caught on her bottom lip.

The action sent a shot straight through her and she moaned slightly, pressing back into the kiss, into him. He did not stop biting at her lips. Her free hand went to his chest, fingers splayed, and it began to move across his chest plate, trying to figure out how to get it off of him.

She _wanted_ him.

And the moment that thought crossed her mind, she pulled back. She had no idea if that was because of the creeping Stockholm or not. She was so starved for affection and touch that she couldn't even tell.

But she let him tug on her lip as she went, drawing a needy noise from her while she broke the kiss. There was a small smirk on his face and she knew that she was flushed. She hummed, clearing her throat, but leaving his hand where it was.

❝ I… Stay safe, Vulpes.❞ She muttered. He nodded and stepped away from her, finally turning towards the door. She paused before she spoke again, this time speaking in words she knew he wouldn’t understand. ❝ अलविदा, मेरा कल्पना.❞ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> अलविदा, मेरा कल्पना = "Goodbye, my fantasy." Google translate will say कल्पना is imagination, but in this context, it's more of a term of endearment similar to 'crush'.


	3. Too wild to tame

**Nipton, California**  
**October 22nd, 2281**

 

❝Don’t worry, I won’t have you lashed to a cross like the rest of these degenerates.❞ She instantly knew that voice and she tensed, prepared to run. She’d fucked up. She’d known she shouldn’t have investigated. She’d just… Thought they’d be gone. ❝It’s useful that you happened by. I want you to witness the fate of the town of Nipton, to memorize every detail. and then, when you move on? I want you to teach everyone you meet the lesson that Caeser’s legion taught here Especially any NCR troops you come across.❞  
  
She paused, as if waiting for him to recognize her, despite that her face was partially covered by the bandanna she’d used. The red of her hair was very distinctive, after all. That would be enough to give her away. Surely he’d been told about her disappearance.

  
❝And what ’ _lessons_ ’ did you teach these people?❞ Her voice was weak. She didn’t even know if he could hear her. She could see the crucifixes. She had an idea. But she needed to know.  
  
❝Where to begin? That they are weak and we are strong? This much was known already.❞ The disdain was clear in his voice as he spoke. That didn’t surprise her, at least. ❝But the depths of their sickness, their… dissolution? Nipton serves as the perfect object lesson.❞  
  
❝What does that mean, **_exactly_** ** _?❞_**  Her words were measured. She still wasn’t sure if he would even recognize her. It had been a long time since she had seen him. In reality, they barely knew each other, despite being married.  
  
❝Nipton was a wicked place, debased and corrupt. It served all comers, so long as they paid. Profligate troops, Powder Gangers, men of the Legion, such as myself, the people here didn’t care.❞ He explained, his face and his voice impassive. Judgment had already been passed and he seemed to hold no emotions towards the deed. ❝It was a town of _whores_. For a pittance, they agreed to lead those it had sheltered into a trap. Only when I sprang it did they realize they were caught inside it too.❞  
  
❝You captured **everyone**?❞ Her voice was still quiet, but a panic was rising in her throat. This was the man that the others had talked about. Had warned her about. This was the side of him she hadn’t seen in their time together. Her eyes darted to the crucifixes, the piles of bodies, the fires. The destruction of the entire town. And he spoke of it so casually. His voice held no guilt.  
  
❝ Yes, and herded them to the center of town. I told them their sins, the foremost being disloyalty. I told them that when legionnaires were disloyal, some are punished, the others made to watch. And I announced the lottery.❞ She could hear the contempt in his voice. She didn’t entirely blame him. It was fucked up. But that was the Wasteland. How did he not understand that? People did what they had to in order to survive. ❝ Each clutched his ticket, hoping it would set his free. Each did nothing, even when his ‘loved ones’ were dragged away to be killed.❞  
  
❝ You slaughtered **_innocents_**?!❞ Her words came out strangled, angry this time. Firm. He scoffed. She didn’t care about some of them. She’d killed plenty of Powder Gangers on her way here. She expected him to kill NCR troops. And those that had set both to be betrayed, that made sense, but the entire town…  
  
❝ Innocent? Hardly. Cowardly, maybe–❞ That was when his words trailed off and he looked at her. Really looked at her. And she took a step back.  
  
_❝Mairwen?❞_  He said and before she could move, he was there, in front of her, and pulled the bandanna off of her face. She blinked at him and took a step back, stumbling. ❝You need to go home.❞

He stepped forward again and wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting her off the ground. She let out a squeak at the movement and kneed him in the chest as hard as she could, pushing herself off of him, getting out of his reach. Her eyes were set on him and she kept her feet spread, ready to run.  
  
She stood in front of him, It reminded her of their first night together. He was close, but not quite touching her. He took a step forward, she moved backward. He was quicker and grabbed onto her wrist this time. His look was hard, but it wasn’t cruel. That was what bothered her the most. If things had been different, maybe she would have gone back with him. But right then she just needed to leave.  
  
❝I’m **not** going with you, Vulpes.❞ She insisted, her voice firm, low. ❝I’m keeping my freedom. _I **won** that_.❞  
  
❝It is not **safe** here for you, cupita.❞ He insisted. He was scolding her and she had to push down the anger that flared up at it. He was practically a child still and he was treating her as if she hadn’t survived half her life in the Wasteland. Fourteen years spent with no one taking care of her but herself.  
  
Her lip curled at his words and she pulled back her arm, hard. He managed to hold on, and all it did was bring him closer to her. She let out a noise of frustration at it. Once again it reminded her of before, but she pushed that aside. Easily this time. The Stockholm had not held her after she’d left.  
  
❝I survived two shots to the head. I think I’m doing **fine**.❞ She muttered to him roughly. The shock was clear on his face, but she didn’t want to explain. ❝I’m going to _kill_ the bastard.❞

 **❝No**.❞ His tone was crisp. Now there was a hint of anger to it. Of command. This was how she knew he didn’t know her. That tone only solidified her stance. ❝This… mission of yours is _over_. **You** are going _**home**_.❞

She wanted so badly to just pull out her knife and stab him. Fear was growing in her, crawling up her. Her need for freedom, for survival, was clawing at her, tearing ragged edges on her mind. It didn’t matter that this was the worst he had ever done to her. That he was trying to do what he thought was best. Her hand begun to move towards her knife. She wasn’t going to let him take her back there. No matter what.  
  
A noise stopped her from doing anything else, even as her she wrapped her fingers around the handle. ED-E’s Battle music. The bot had found something. Vulpes’ grip loosened on her arm enough for her to get a chance. Instead of her knife, she kicked his shin and twisted out of his grip, springing away, getting out of arm’s reach.  
  
❝ED-E. I hope you got me something good!❞ She called out, keeping her husband in her line of sight even as the bot appeared. Followed by several bark scorpions, trying to attack the unknown orb. She let out a whoop as ED-E led them to the other legionaries, zipping right past them. Letting the scorpions focus on their new targets. ❝Fuck yea!❞  
  
She looked straight at Vulpes for a second. It gave him a choice. His men or her. They might survive, bark scorpions weren’t that strong, but there were enough of them it was a risk. But she knew what he would choose. She was his wife, but he was head of the Frumentarii. He had a responsibility to his men. His look became hard and she knew he knew it too.

❝I promise I’ll be fine.❞ She urged. She wasn't quite sure why she was trying to reassure him of that. He took a step towards her.

She _**ran**_.  
  
She ran as hard and as fast as she could, the bot flying behind her, beeping all the way. She ran until she couldn’t run anymore, collapsing into the dirt by the train tracks. ED-E let out a warning beep and she knew there were things nearby. It wasn’t safe to stop there.

Her whole body ached and fear still coursed through her, but she had to move on. She stood,  her vision darkening at the edges and she heaved up bile. Her body was furious with her. She hadn’t eaten in hours and there she was, pushing herself to her limits.  
  
She pulled out the shotgun Doc had given her and forced herself to keep moving, trying to stay hidden. She had to kill a couple bark scorpions on her way, but she soon came across a railway station. It looked like it had been used as a waypoint for other travelers. She didn’t even say anything to the bot before she passed out on one of the mattresses.  
  
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she woke up. It was dark and it was only her and ED-E. And her whole body was sore. She took a Med-X and a Buffout and stayed there, awake, for a while. She tried to eat, but the fear was still gnawing at her. She should _leave_. Staying in one place could easily lead to being found. But she needed to recover. And she needed to decide what to do.  
  
She knew the pass wasn’t safe. She’d heard rumours about it and she didn’t want to risk it. Her best bet to get to Novac would be going back through Nipton. Which meant risking running into him again. But he would probably prioritize going back to report what happened over finding her. She had to bank on that. Had to hope. It was a gamble, but she had nothing else. So she made her way back, sticking to the outcroppings of rock on either side of the train tracks as she made her way.  
  
And she made it to Nipton without incident. She rested in one of the homes, locking the doors and sleeping between the two of them. Hopefully, anyone would only try going through one of the doors and she’d be able to get out of the other. She prayed that he wouldn’t look for her here. She ate what food the people who lived there had left behind.  
  
She rested there and left for Novac when she woke up. She crept there as much as possible. It took her three days. She kept taking buffout and med-x and mentats to keep her going. She had to be careful with them, though. Taking too many, especially so close together, was dangerous and she couldn’t afford to get addicted.  
  
She didn’t feel safe enough to get a full night’s rest until she hit Novac.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, we've now hit the end of what I've already written, so chapters from here on will be slower. I'll be splitting my time between writing this one, and writing my other fic 'In My Memory Locked'.


	4. Keep Asking for So Much

**New Vegas Strip, Nevada**  
**October 31st, 2281**

 

She was already frustrated and angry when she left the Tops. She felt so stupid for having let Benny get away. She’d had him. **Right there**. She could have _so easily_ killed him. but she didn’t. She’d still ended up having to kill four of his bodyguards. Only herself and ED-E. With the knife she’d managed to smuggle in. Her clothes being dark were probably the _only_ reason no one had noticed the blood on them.

Now he’d fucked off to who knows where and the only things she’d really found out were a few vague ambitions and some actual plans from a too forthright robot. Maybe if she investigated those things beforehand she’d be able to find out what was going on. More things she had to gamble on.

She’d begun to leave when her husband was suddenly **there** , suddenly right in front of her, dressed just like anybody else on the Strip might be. She startled back, tripping over a step. She was saved from falling by his right grip on her wrist. This time, his grip as he pulled her hurt, even as he kept her from falling.

His expression was that familiar unreadable one she’d thought had been left behind when she’d fled. Apparently not. He stared at her for a long moment, then looked at her hands. She followed his gaze as he stared, frowning. She hadn’t gotten much of the blood off of them. The gloves masked a lot of it, but this close… His fingers flexed experimentally around her wrist and came away red. Her hands had been so thick in it that it still hadn't dried.

❝This is why you should have stayed home. You are putting yourself in danger here.❞ He scolded. There was _almost_ a gentle cast to his voice. But she must have been imagining it because a moment later, his attention returned to her face and his expression was stoic.

❝The eyes of the mighty Caesar are upon you, cupita. He admires your accomplishments, and bestows upon you the exceptional gift of his mark.❞ He pulled something out of his suit pocket and pressed into her hand, folding her fingers in around the coin. ❝You will come to Fortification Hill and you will do as Caesar requires of you.❞ 

She tried to jerk her hand back, but he wouldn’t let go, even as she twisted her wrist in his grip.

❝Let me go, Vulpes.❞ She hissed at him, finally grabbing onto his arm to try to pull him off. ❝I’m not going home and I’m not going to see Caesar.❞ 

Veronica was nearby, that much she knew. If she could get the scribe’s attention, she could get away from him. That woman could pack a punch. Could get him away from her. But she didn’t want to take her eyes off of him for a _moment_.

 **❝Why** are you fighting me on this?❞ He seemed genuinely confused by her actions. As if he couldn’t comprehend why she wouldn’t want to go there, go with him. ❝ He is unaware that you’re my wife, and still he offers forgiveness for your actions against the Legion. He doesn’t extend this mercy lightly. It will not happen a second time.❞ 

This made her pause. She stopped struggling and looked at him. That didn’t even make sense to her. Why wouldn’t he have told Caesar? No, she reminded herself, stamping down the doubt. He must be lying. She pulled on her arm again, this time dropping the mark in her struggle. He frowned at her, watching it as it tumbled to the ground. He let out a small sigh of frustration and released her as he bent to pick it up.

She _should_ have run then. Left him and the **damned** mark where they stood. She wasn’t quite sure why she didn’t. She just clutched her wrist and stared at him. He stood, and before she had a chance to protest, he was slipping the Mark over her head. She scowled, but this time she didn’t stop him.

❝Perhaps it will interest you to know that the man you seek has fled the Strip and is likely making haste for Caesar’s camp as we speak.❞  He explained and removed his hands from her as if in concession to her. ❝You will still be able to complete your… Revenge quest.❞ 

❝This isn’t some trick to take me back to Flagstaff?❞ She asked him, eyes narrowing. He shook his head at her question. Not that she trusted it.

❝I have not lied to you yet, cupita. you are guaranteed safe conduct, that would include taking you anywhere. You will be safe with Caesar’s mark.❞ His face returned to an impassive expression and she _wished_ she knew what he was thinking.

His assertion that he hadn’t lied to her was strange. Perhaps it was even true. They hadn’t really spent enough _time_ together to lie to each other. And he’d barely even talked when he’d gone home to recover. But it didn’t matter. She had no reason to believe that he would be honest out here. She paused.

❝How did you find me anyway?❞ She needed to know. She’d taken Boone with her when she left Novac in order to protect herself. No one in Legion armor could follow them and not be shot. That man had a vendetta to match her own against Benny. She’d felt some guilt over it, but _clearly_ , none of them had been her husband.

❝I am the greatest of Caesar’s Frumentarri. It was not a challenge to find you. Nor is this my first time to the Strip.❞ he answered, and she made a face at him. That confused her even more. She escaped a while ago and yet he only finds her **now**.

❝If it wasn’t a challenge, why did it take me getting **shot** in the _**head** _ for you to find me at all?❞ There was a slightly bitter, almost mocking tone to her voice. she couldn’t help it. She’d escaped flagstaff, the legion, him. And everything was fine. She’d even been in Mojave without him finding her. And now he finds her.

❝I did not know you had left home until I saw you in Nipton.❞ She blinked at that. She knew he had looked as if he hadn’t expected her to be anywhere near there, but this?

❝What… In the whole… _year_? Year and a half? That I’ve been gone, **no one** told you that your wife up and left?❞ More confusion marked his face at that, and she stood there, gaping at him.

If he were being honest, then he’d spent over a year thinking that she had been at his home, waiting for him among the garden and his books. She tried to read his face to tell if he was upset by the news. To see if he even cared, but it seemed the only thing she’d learned to read on him was confusion.

❝Why the **fuck** wouldn’t they even tell you? They just–❞ She started, but cut herself off. No, she knew why. She was still a woman to the Legion. They didn’t think of it like everyone else. He could just get a new wife, after all. They didn’t love each other anyway, so it really didn’t have to match her view of things. She ran her hand over face in frustration, letting out a quiet growl. She really hadn’t needed to worry, had she? ❝Nevermind. Just… No. I’m not doing this.❞ 

❝Seek Caesar by way of Cottonwood Cove, south of Nelson. the Cursor Lucullus will be waiting.❞ His face had returned to that unreadable expression as he spoke and she just stared at him. This was probably the most the two of them had actually spoken in one sitting. The most he’d said in one sitting at least. He took a step back, moving to turn, and she grabbed his arm.

It reminded her _too_ much of the last time she had seen him before she left. She didn’t know if any of it actually **mattered** to him. If he would actually care. She chewed on her lip, pointedly staring at his collar instead of at his face. He must’ve been reminded too because he turned back towards her and his hand hovered over her hip. She felt she needed to say something. To do something. But nothing came to mind.

She sighed at last and took a step closer to him. He seemed to wait for what she was going to do. Last time, she had kissed him and she’d had to stop herself from wanting more from it. She wasn’t going to risk that again, so she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

❝I’m sorry Vulpes.❞ She muttered, she wasn’t even sure why she was apologizing to him for it. ❝ _I’m not going_.❞ 

With that, she let go of his arm and took two steps back, pulling out of his reach. He frowned at her and looked like he was about to say something else. Scolding her again, no doubt. When Veronica’s voice rang out over the street. Mairwen looked over to where she heard the other woman’s voice and gave a small wave. She wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or worried about the scribe interrupting them.

When she turned back to Vulpes, he was gone. She caught sight of him in the distance, headed towards the other end of the Strip. This whole thing was strange. She didn’t understand him. They’d spent barely a month’s worth of time together. During which time, he’d barely talked to her. She’d done most of the talking, and he’d even let her vent her frustrations. It made her believe that he didn’t really want her as a wife either, but still, he talked about her safety. As if he actually cared.

She scolded herself. She couldn’t think like that. It was that need for a connection creeping up again. The idea of someone actually _**caring** _ was too tempting of a thought. She couldn’t let herself fall into that.

❝Who was that?❞ Veronica asked, frowning at the retreating figure. Probably a good time to own up. If she were the type to.

❝Saw where Benny ran off to, apparently.❞ It was the truth, after all. Just not all of it. But she didn’t want to share anymore else. Not the full truth. Not yet. ❝Come on, I gotta talk to Mr. House.❞ 

She led the way, trying not to worry about the fact that she had come all this way, made all the effort to escape from Legion control, only to run into them, into her husband, of all people, on her way to revenge. It was almost poetic. She could’ve escaped for good, by all accounts dead, and not have worried about anyone finding her again. She could’ve gone East, escaped there.

But she **didn’t**. And it was too late. She knew that. They rode the elevator up and parted at the Presidential suite.

About a half an hour and an argument with a giant computer screen later, Mairwen went down to the Cocktail lounge. Mr. House already knew about Vulpes, and he had all but said that if she didn’t do what he wanted, he would tell them. Whether he meant her companions or the Legion, she wasn’t sure. She was beginning to hate that man. Blackmail was what this was. He dressed it up as being given an opportunity, but that wasn’t **_really_ ** the truth.

She grabbed herself a couple of the atomic cocktails that were hanging out by the bar as she walked towards the windows. She dropped down into one of the seats, cracking one open and just downing the whole thing before she even really gave herself a chance to think more on it. She drank until she couldn’t think straight, weeping into the empty room. Her hand reached up to touch her neck, rubbing the spot where the weight felt far too familiar, grasping almost as if she were choking.

Her fingers brushed against Caesar’s Mark hanging there, hanging on a cord around her neck. The one her husband had put there. For her safety. From the Legion. She **doubted** that he would see the  irony there.


	5. try and take it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dead Dove Do Not Eat elements here regarding violence. If you want to skip the graphic stuff, stop at Benny's lighter.

**Fortification Hill, Arizona**  
**November 3rd, 2281**

 

  ❝ Abandon hope all ye who enter here. ❞ She muttered under her breath as she stared up the hill. She was met with a disbelieving stare from Arcade. She shrugged casually: After his comment, she hadn't been able to resist. He was the only one that knew anything about her connection to the Legion. She'd told him on the way there that she was a Legion wife. She just hadn't told him who her husband was. A warning in case Vulpes had been lying. 

She felt vulnerable with her weapons gone, but patted the side of the eyebot. She could feel the warm metal through her gloves, and the warmth under her hand soothed her enough to continue on and keep her fear under the surface.

She wasn’t afraid of the Legionaries themselves, she had to remind herself as they stepped forward. It was only the idea of being dragged back to the capital. The heavy weight of the collar she’d once worn and what it meant.  ** _Ownership_**. Someone thinking they could do whatever they wanted with her.  Judging from their leering faces, these men likely thought they could find that in her if Caesar had no need of her skills. 

She matched their looks with a calm,  **hateful** disdain. Each one getting the cold hate that flooded her. She made it a point to connect with each of them as she walked.  _Daring_ them to say something to her. Some caught that gaze with surprise, so unused to such sharpness on a woman. Some hid their expressions better. She could tell which were the recruits; they were the first to look away. She couldn’t look at the women in the camp though.  _Guilt_ would well up in her, and that didn’t serve her right now.

There was a sickening mix of fear and hatred and stubborn defiance brewing in her gut and as they reached the top of the hill. Reached the tent of the mighty Caesar. She swallowed the scoff that came to her lips at the mere thought of this man’s greatness.  _A **God** would have no need of a  **Courier**.   
_

The knife tucked into the back of her waistband itched, reminded that she wasn’t entirely defenseless here. ED-E proved that as well. She wondered if she should have tried to bring in a gun with her as well. But that might have been too much trouble.  
  
❝ Your companions must wait out here. ❞ The Praetorian guard told her. It was the first time her expression of casual arrogance faltered. She caught the fear and turned it merely into a disapproving frown. She should take it as a lack of confidence on his part. That was how she choose to do so, at least. She nodded and turned to them.

❝ You heard the man. Stay out here. ❞ She said, giving a small shrug. She didn’t miss the concerned look her words were met with. She flashed a cocky grin and didn’t wait for a response before she disappeared into the tent. ❝ I’ll be back.❞

Her steps were a measured, solid pace to keep the  _illusion_ of confidence. This wasn’t the first time she had played this game before. She lived this. The balance of projecting just enough competence to avoid being taken advantage of and passivity to not seem an outright threat. The second part her hatred was trying to ruin, and that she would have to keep an eye on. 

She stood before the leader of the Legion, flanked on either side by his guards. And her husband. Vulpes Inculta. Her gaze settled on him first, trying to assess if he had lied to her for a moment before turning her attention to Caesar.  

❝ Courier Six of the Mojave Express, as summoned. ❞ She told him, her tone playful, with a mock respect she wasn’t sure if he’d catch, extending one arm dramatically, a small bow as she gave her non-introduction. 

❝ So I finally get to meet the Courier who’s accomplished so much in so little time. That is why I summoned you here, right? ❞ The expression on the man’s face was arrogance, but his next words were nearly flattery as he spoke. Detailing what her accomplishments were. She barely listened when it listed them off, waiting for him to get to the  **real** reason why she was there. ❝ When you set your mind to something, you get results. I like that. The question is… Are you ready to get started? ❞

❝ Just let me deal with Benny and I’ll be on my way.❞ She had to keep her tone casual, on the edge of amused, despite the bitterness that boiled under the words. She didn’t want to deal with him at all. She felt the weight of her husband’s eyes on her at her words.

❝ Benny is  **my** prisoner. You don’t ‘ _deal with him_ ‘ unless you’ve dealt with me. Don’t worry, you’ll get the Platinum Chip he was carrying. And then you’ll use it like I tell you to. ❞ To her credit, her lip only curled for a second before she erased it from her face, instead giving him a thoughtful, noncommittal hum as he continued to speak. This time she took a look at Vulpes, his expression was hard, and she could nearly sense the scolding under the skin. She repressed the smirk as well. as Caesar finished talking. 

She paused, her attention back to the Leader. ❝ What do you want me to do? ❞

And so she was given her task. One not far from what Mr. House had expected. The Platinum Chip was pressed into her hand and she gave another small bow of her head before she made her way out of the tent and down the hill to do what she was supposed to. Arcade joined her, and she explained what they'd been asked to do. He already knew what Mr. House had asked. 

She just had to choose which man she was going to listen to. Threats from both sides.

Her weapons reassured her, though she knew they wouldn’t be in her hands for long. But the trip through the bunker left her with a laser from one of the Protections in the shoulder. And a couple bullets from a turret in her outer thigh. She entered the heart of the Bunker, her options weighing on her mind, and she made her choice. She would have to deal with the consequences later. 

She didn’t wait around to see how things played out underneath. She left the bunker, already pulling out a RadAway to begin purging the radiation that she’d had to deal with. She’d already soaked up too much before she’d arrived. She stepped out of the ground and into the presence of the Legionaries with the needle already in her vein. She moved towards the door before she was stopped by the Guard. 

❝ You carried out Caesar’s will, but I must confiscate your equipment again. ❞ She let out a huff of frustration, letting the RadAway do its job, flexing her arm for a moment after the needle was out and she tossed it aside. She pulled out her weapons, piece by piece, leaving the knife at her back once again, and nodded at Arcade to do the same. 

She still didn’t like it, but she marched her way back up the hill and with barely a wave of instruction, entered the tent alone once more. She didn’t even have to say anything to him as she walked up, he began speaking without prompting, the air of someone who was used to be worshiped. This time her frown didn’t hide itself. The pain of the wounds she had received were already driving her anger along.

❝ I felt the ground shake a while ago. I’ll take that as a sign you got the job done. ❞ She paused for a moment at his words, seeing the smug smile on his face, but nodded. Mindless obedience was what he was used to, wasn’t it? ❝ There are rewards for doing as I command. Today, your reward is vengeance. You get to decide how Benny dies. Go to Benny, let him know what you’ve decided. My Praetorians will perform the execution - unless you want to perform it yourself. ❞

The last bit had almost held a mocking tone. As if he didn’t believe that she would want to kill the man that had killed her and dragged her back into this.

❝ Thank you, Caesar. ❞ She didn’t want to thank him for the vengeance she deserved, that she had every right to. But she knew that she had to. 

❝ Consider it the first of many bestowments. ❞ More arrogance that she ignored. She didn’t hesitate to walk over to the Chairman kneeling there with his arms bound, letting her anger finally make its way unto her face. 

❝ So baby, what did you find down there? ❞ Benny asked as she stepped towards him, standing above him. He was a fool if he thought he could call her ‘baby’. She heard the steps behind her, and she knew who it was who had come to watch.

❝ None of your business. It’s time for you to die. ❞ There was venom in her words.

❝ I see. And how’s that gonna happen? ❞ He asked and she hummed at him, squatting down to his level to stare at him. She wanted to see his expression.

❝ You know, I could shoot you right here. Or there’s the arena, and then there’s crucifixion. ❞ She hummed for a moment as if considering it. 

❝ Or you could let me go, baby. ❞ He suggested an almost hopeful tone to her voice. She sneered at him.

❝ I don’t  _like_ being called  **baby**. ❞ She hissed and stood abruptly. Her smile was almost feral as the idea popped into her head.

She turned abruptly to the one she knew had followed her. To Vulpes. Her husband. Why not make this a show.  **He** already underestimated her too. Why not show how foolish that was while she was at it. She walked up to him in a couple short, quick steps and she held out a hand.

❝ Give me your knife. ❞ It wasn’t a question. And his expression was one of confusion. He hesitated a moment before he pulled it out. He held it for a moment longer before pressing the handle into her palm. Her smile widened. Already burning with anger, she considered for a moment turning his own blade on him and freeing herself from that. But she knew it meant death. And she knew it wasn’t him she hated. ❝ Why thank you. ❞

She dug into the pouch at her hip and pulled out two more items that she’d need. She bit down on the blade as she held out the forceps, bringing the lighter - Benny's Lighter - to the metal clamps. She waited until they began to glow red. She could feel the heat of it through her gloves. She knew that she’d feel the burn by the end, but that didn’t matter. 

Meeting eyes with Vulpes at the sight of the glow, she caught his look. His confusion was still there, but there was an undercurrent there. Something she didn’t take the time to analyze. She smiled around the knife and turned, dropping the lighter at Benny’s feet. She pulled the knife out of her mouth.

Vulpes had followed her for this as well and she sent him another glance. Her voice was sickly sweet as she spoke. ❝ Hold him if he starts squirming on me, won’t you? ❞

He nodded, his expression still questioning. What a husband-wife activity this was going to be. She chuckled at that. 

She pressed the heel of her boot into Benny’s groin, and he groaned in pain as she leaned forward, putting her face even with his. ❝ Maybe if things had been different, I would’ve been kinder. ❞ 

His expression was already contorted with pain when he opened his mouth, his eyes focused more on the knife in her hand than the forceps and she took that moment to reach into his mouth and grab hold of his tongue with that hand. She adjusted her grip to clamp down with the burning hot forceps and pull it to stick out of his mouth. 

He screamed. A blood-curdling sound as the flesh bubbled under the heat. He tried to jerk away, but she kept her grip firm. Vulpes, to her gratitude, did as she’d asked and grabbed his shoulders, holding him in place with a knee in his back and one hand on his head to keep it still. 

Tears were already streaming down his cheeks. Part of her wanted to pull the forceps back, give him a second’s reprieve, before doing it again. But she didn’t have time for that. She adjusted her grip. Maybe she should have heated the knife as well. 

_Ah well._

She tugged his tongue out of his mouth further and set about her task. The knife cut into the soft flesh of his tongue. His screaming rose an octave as she drove her blade into it, moving slowly, drawing it out. His scream turned to a gurgling noise as the blood poured out of the wound. The forceps tore at the skin, helping her progress. 

He probably didn’t even feel them at this point. She wondered briefly at what moment that pain went away. 

The knife blade came sliced through the other side and she stood with his tongue in her hand. She gave a satisfied hum, removing her boot and straightening out a bit. She wiped the blood off of the knife onto her duster and held it out for Vulpes. Her smug grin was still feral as she looked at him. ❝ Thank you. ❞

Another moment where he hesitated before he took it. She glanced down at Benny, the blood pouring out of his mouth. He looked dizzy and on the verge of passing out. She frowned. That would _not_ do. Not at all. She reached into her pouch again and pulled out a stimpak. Grabbing his head with the hand still holding his tongue in forceps, she opened his mouth and inserted the needle onto the remnants of his tongue. Not the whole thing, of course. 

The stimpak would do nothing for the pain, but she didn’t want him dying from the wound. Once it began to work, she grinned at him. He had regained enough of himself to spit in her face and she only smiled, patting him gently on the cheek. This time she stood and stepped away from him entirely. 

❝  _ **Now**_ he can be crucified. ❞ She said, connecting with her husband’s gaze and finding an underlying heat that made her shiver. She wasn’t going to think on it then. She moved her gaze to the Praetorian guard nearby instead, who nodded at her words and moved to Benny to do as instructed.

She used the rest of the stimpak on her arm, healing her earlier wounds and the burns forming on her hand. She turned back towards the main part of the tent, dropping the forceps and holding onto Benny’s tongue. For a moment she considered what to do with it. She didn’t need a trophy from him. She glanced at the Legion mongrel nearby and stepped towards it, holding out the tongue. It took the treat eagerly from her fingers, quickly devouring the Chairman’s tongue. 

She finally walked back over to Caesar, wiping the blood from her face. She grinned at him and said nothing.

❝ You took a ruthless approach with Benny. I admire that. ❞ Caesar said, a pleased expression on her face that sent anger through her. She didn’t want him pleased with her actions. She paused for a moment before she spoke.

❝ If an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared. ❞ She quoted, a sick sincerity in her words. She tended to follow those words as best she could. Benny should have.

❝  _Machiavelli_. You surprise me. ❞ She shouldn’t be surprised that he hadn’t expected her to know the philosopher. 

She gave a shrug to the comment, and then let him continue to speak, telling her what her next task was. Killing Mr. House. She wasn’t opposed to that in the least. He had already blackmailed her into coming here, into dealing with the Legion. He’d blackmailed her with the knowledge of her marriage, and that wasn’t something she wanted anyone to know.

Vulpes’ presence already made it impossible, but she hoped to keep it between the two of them. She wasn’t doing it for him, but she kept that carefully to herself. There wasn’t any need to anger him over it. So she agreed and left. She stopped by Benny’s cross before she met with Arcade and ED-E and had them follow her out of Caesar’s camp.   


	6. get me in the canyon, lover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hover-over text should work for desktop. I'll include the translations at the end as well.

**Cottonwood Cove, Nevada**  
**November 3rd, 2281**

  
  
The adrenaline was still coursing through her system as they crossed the river. Her rage wasn’t ebbing away, not really. It was crawling beneath her skin, burning at her. There was more to it than just her vengeance and she needed to get it out of her system. 

Stepping off the barge, she barely gave a nod of acknowledgment to the Cursor, shaking her hands as if she could shake off the burn coursing through her like static. She didn’t say anything as they made their way up the hill, until she stopped and looked at Arcade. He stopped with her, looking over and opening his mouth for undoubtedly another quip.

❝I need some time. Go on to Novac without me.❞ Her words were tight, short. And she didn’t wait for a reply. She turned down the fork they’d reached, heading back down the slope, this time towards the Overlook. It was quiet there. The Legion didn’t really need to keep people up there. 

She’d have **some** semblance of privacy and time along with her thoughts for a minute before she headed out. More that she needed some distance from people who wouldn’t _quite_ understand. She moved to the edge of the cliff face near an old camping trailer, leaning against the rocks. She watched the legionaries as they milled about below, going about their day.

There was more to it than the rage that burned about Benny’s bullets. More than the rage at the circumstances of it. Everything had been  **tainted** by that. And now she was back within Legion lands, the circumstances changed, but the **_weight_ ** of it still heavy on her. He deserved more than what she had given him. More pain for what he had brought her back to.

The heat of sadistic _satisfaction_ rode along with it. It had been awhile since she’d gotten like this. Her emotions were frayed, the edges of them raw and wanting. Revenge wasn't a good thing to indulge in, and it clawed at her darker side. She shook out her hands again, the static wasn’t there, but Gods that would make it so much better in that moment. 

She didn't hear the footsteps behind her until they were too close. Her instincts reacted on their own, pulling her knife from her belt, she turned, driving it towards the unknown approaching figure. But her wrist was caught in a firm grip. Her body began to fall into the dance she moved to when she was going in for a kill, trying to defend herself; stepping in closer towards them, her other hand already fingering the hilt of the knife at her back. 

But she stopped when her mind registered the face. Vulpes Inculta. Her husband. She just let out a growl of frustration at him, stepping away and falling into a less aggressive stance. Her body was too tense with anger for anything relaxed to hold her. He was watching her, his expression dark, filled with heat. She didn't look away.

❝ What do you want? ❞ She hissed out at him. Her knife was still in her hand, and he still held her wrist. If he did something she didn’t like, she could still continue her action.

❝ I had expected you to show more mercy to him. ❞ His voice was even, but she could feel the undertone to it, belying something more. She glared at his comment and took a step towards him.

❝ I showed him _plenty_ of mercy. ❞ Her voice was sharp, filled with the hateful promise of what she might have done if she had not felt constrained by the Legion’s eyes on her. Not had to worry that they'd see her rage and feel she needed to be watched more closely. She would prefer they stay underestimating her, but she had let her hatred take over more than she should have allowed. 

❝ Is that so? ❞ He asked. Something flashed in Vulpes’ eyes when he spoke, however. And she caught it. She knew that look. A wicked grin spread across her face.

❝ I wanted to  _flay_  the bastard before putting him on that cross. ❞ She matched his gaze. He made a noise in his throat. 

❝ I enjoyed watching you as you cut out his tongue. I would have enjoyed that as well. ❞ His words came out thick with a darkness she’d expected from him early on. He leaned forward and she was reminded that there was still her knife between them. ❝ I want to fuck you. ❞

The words practically came out as a growl and it took her a moment to register them. She blinked for a moment, her eyes narrowing at him. That was not something she had expected to hear from him right then. ❝ You want to _what_? ❞

Her words had come out huskier than she’d meant them to. He leaned in closer towards her and she could feel his breath on her face.

❝ I want to **fuck** you. ❞ She shivered slightly. She had certainly thought about it. She’d found him attractive from the start, despite his reputation.

Her days in Flagstaff had been punctuated with the soothing fantasy that she had wanted him all along. That it had been her choice. She’d had many a night where she’d called out his name as she found her release in his bed. His brief visit and her subsequent escape hadn’t tamed the thoughts. He’d had his voice firm in her mind since then as well. 

But she worried this was a trick. He'd barely express much interest in her before. They’d kissed once, and never consummated things. She wasn’t entirely familiar with Legion laws regarding wayward wives. She didn't want to tighten his hold on her anymore than it already was. She narrowed her eyes at him.

❝ I _won’t_ go back to Flagstaff. ❞ Her words were firm and she pressed her knife towards him to emphasize them.

❝ That is **not** of concern right now. ❞ She could feel the truth of it in his words and she paused there. Her eyes searched his face for a moment more before she made her decision. 

_**Fuck** it. _

She let go of her knife, letting it fall into the dirt, and pressed into him, lips crashing against his. He returned it eagerly, tongue running over her bottom lip before he took it between his teeth and tugged. She moaned quietly and her hands moved across his chest, once again searching for the best way to remove his armor. Just like the last time. And just like the last time, she was having no luck.

She growled in frustration and pulled away from him slightly and stared at it in annoyance. The clothing, the location. They were both things that _needed_ to change. He seemed to have the same thought because he looked around before pulling her away and towards the camper. He pushed her inside. There was nothing save for a small metal table in there, but she had already begun pulling off her clothes. Her duster was thrown onto the table and her shirt and bra soon followed, hitting the floor. 

He was upon her again as her hands began working on her pants and she moaned into the kiss. His hands moved down to her hips, roughly pushing them down along with her panties without waiting for her to finish undoing the zipper. She bit at his lip for the action, tugging on it as she broke the kiss. 

She kicked her boots off and took note that he hadn’t taken off of his. She really didn’t give a fuck what he kept on, but she wanted hers off. It was the first time she stood in front of naked and part of her mind said she could care, but all she could do was stare at him, waiting for his next move. 

He pushed her back onto the table, the duster she had thrown there keeping the metal from biting into her. He paused for a moment, eyes focused on her before he sunk to his knees at the edge of the table and she kept his gaze from between her thighs. 

She propped herself onto her elbows to watch him as he leaned forward, his breath hot against her. She bit her lip as he hovered there. She didn’t have to wait long before she felt his mouth on her. She moaned as she felt his tongue run along the folds of her cunt. 

❝ Ita tam infectum, cupita ❞ He muttered against her. The words sent a heat through her. Of course **now** he would use that word. She fell back to rest against the table as he went back to his task, her head tilting back. Long, languid strokes of his tongue, drawing out shapes, flicking his tongue across her clit, thrusting it shallowly into her. Each movement caused her to writhe underneath his touch.

❝ _Fuck_. ❞ She whispered back to him, her voice husky as he continued his pace. He paused for a moment to draw away and she _whined_ , one hand reaching for him. 

She gasped when she felt his teeth bite into the sensitive skin at her thigh, her back arching at the feeling. That. That was not what she had been expecting. But she  **loved**  it. And he seemed to have sensed that, because he bit down on the other thigh, _harder_ this time. 

❝ Vulpes… ❞ She moaned out his name. She wanted this. Wanted him to continue what he was doing, but she also wanted more, and that feeling crawled its way up her spine. Her hand moved from his head, drifting through the short cut hair before she settled onto the shoulder pad of his armor and tugged again.

❝ Just fu– ❞ She gasped as his mouth found her clit in that moment, sucking on it hard and she writhed against him. She let out a noise of frustration, indecision warring in her, but she tugged on him again. ❝ Just fuck me. **Please**. ❞

She was insistent, nearly pleading. He bit into her thigh again, muttering more latin into the skin, but he moved with her actions, following the pull of her arm leisurely. His mouth moved along her body as he went. No gentle kisses were pressed against her skin, but small, sharp bites into the softness of her stomach and she gasped with each one, writhing. 

He stopped at her breasts, taking hold of one, squeezing it as he moved his mouth to the other. He teased at her nipple, running his tongue along it before his teeth caught it and he pulled. Gently at first. She swore, biting down on her lip.

He still hadn’t listened to her, though, she noticed. Her hand sought his hip, pressing her body against his, only his leather pteryges pressing into her. His free hand moved towards her hip, his fingers digging into her. He moved to her other breast and bit down on her there as well before he leaned back and stared down at her. 

It was the smirk on his lips that was how she knew that he was teasing her. He knew, and he was drawing it out. She growled, annoyance edging into her expression. 

He reached down, running his fingers along her, teasing her. Her head fell back when he slipped a finger into it. He pushed her legs further apart and pulled her just over the edge of the table roughly. He stroked her, testing her, before slipping in another and quickening his pace. Her hips rose to meet him, panting. She was falling into it as if they’d done it before and all at once he pulled out of her. She heard the rustle of fabric as he adjusted his clothing.

She let out a needy whimper, the noise being swallowed with a gasp as he replaced his fingers with the tip of his cock. She wrapped a leg around his waist and, pressing her heel against his back, urged him forward until he was buried into her. 

❝ Et hoc est quod vis? ❞ Her gasp this time was silent and when he spoke, she could hear the smug tone to his words as he slowly began to withdraw.

He didn’t give her a chance to answer before he thrust back into her, and the words died in her throat. He leaned over her as he thrust into her, and his mouth was on her again. He nipped and bit at her chest before as she matched the pace of his hips, arching her body to give him access to both. 

❝ Vos sentio mirabile. ❞ He murmured, his voice husky as he bit the side of her breast. Her hands moved to his back, his shoulders, before settling on his arms, grasping at him as she writhed. Unconciously being mindful of the scars he had there.

She began a steady chant of ’ _Fuck_ ’, ’ _Yes_ ’, and strangled half-sentences that were barely intelligible. The entirety of the day and all the emotions it had elicited from her had bundled and it was unraveling around her as he moved with every stroke. It didn’t matter that he’d found her in this fucking hell hole. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t picked him. Picked any part of this whole scenario she was stuck in. 

They could drop another bomb and she wouldn’t even _**notice**_. She could feel the bruises against her skin as they were forming, the bite marks he was leaving on her skin. He wasn't being gentle and that was exactly what she wanted. What she _needed_. Her nails dug into his arm as he bit the hollow between her shoulder and her neck. It was hard enough to hurt, and she felt the pain blossom around the spot and could only moan at the sensation.

❝ Sicut quod. Venis ad me, cupita. ❞ He muttered into her skin there, but the words were lost to her, as she fell over the edge, calling out his name as she came. She felt herself pulse around him even as he continued to thrust into her. He gently kissed the spot where he had bitten before he moved to the other side of her neck, his teeth only grazing against the skin there.  His rhythm was becoming more erratic, frantic, pushing himself deeper into her.

Her only warning was when his teeth sunk into her again, and this time she screamed out, the pain barely masked by the tail end of her own orgasm as he came, filling her with his cum. A short, shallow thrust against her punctuating his movements before he stilled. He kissed the new spot before he leaned back, rising onto his hands to look at her. 

She was panting, staring at him as she came down from the whole thing, the edges of reality only beginning to tickle at her mind. And he stared down back at her for a moment, as if admiring how she looked then, before he pulled back. She let out a gentle whine when she felt him slide out, already missing his presence. She lay there for a moment as he moved back entirely and out of her sight.

Her mind coming back to her, She sat up, slowly, her eyes still fixed on him. His breathing hadn’t quite returned to normal, and she saw the sheen of sweat on his skin, but save for the pink crescents where her nails had dug into his biceps, he barely looked out of sorts. Even his clothes barely looked mussed. Meanwhile, she looked down at herself and she could already see the red marks covering her body. Evidence of this whole encouter littering her skin. 

She blinked. And then laughed,  _struck_ by the absurdity of it. The noise seemed to take him by surprise, because there was some confusion on his face and she paused for a moment as she slid off the table, feeling his cum trickle down her leg. 

❝ हमें पहले यह करना चाहिए था।. . ❞ She muttered. To herself at first, searching for her panties as she chuckled. Before she decided that she should say something to him. Not all men would understand what she’d found amusing in that. “That was amazing, love.”

The endearment was a casual one, and her mind only tugged at it as she pulled on her panties, her pants following shortly. It didn't mean anything, not really. She hummed contentedly as she pulled on each piece of clothing, considering the events. The hazy afterglow of sex let her settle into it without guilt or fear and as she pulled on her boots before she turned to face him. She tilted her head and hummed gently. 

❝ Haven’t been fucked like that in **_years_**. ❞ She told him. She left out the part that she hadn’t been fucked by a man in years in general, regardless of quality. Before they were married, actually. She'd avoided relationships after she'd ran away.

❝ I’m glad to hear you enjoyed it. ❞ She saw the smirk tugging on his lips. She chuckled, brushing off her duster before throwing it over her shoulders. She’d have to get it cleaned when next she could. Another thoughtful hum and she stepped forward. She gently placed one hand on his cheek, reading his face for a moment. 

She wanted to remind him that she didn’t belong to him, that this didn’t really mean anything beyond what it was, that the fact that they were married played no part in it, but the words didn’t come to her. She chewed on her lip for a moment. Silence often spoke for itself. Maybe he already knew. Maybe he thought the same. She didn't know. Wasn't sure if she wanted to know. She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his lips. He tugged at her lower lip and she pulled back with another laugh.

❝ You start doing _that_ and I might not leave. ❞ She teased, stepping away from him and out of the camper. The first thing she was going to have to do was find where she’d dropped her knife. Then she’d gather the rest of her things and head to Novac. She couldn’t actually stay there. Wasn't going to give up everything for him. Especially for some mindless fucking. She wasn't that foolish. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ita tam infectum, cupita." = You're so wet, beloved.  
> "Et hoc est quod vis?" = Is this what you want?  
> "Vos sentio mirabile." = You feel amazing.  
> "Sicut quod. Venis ad me, cupita." = Just like that. Come for me, beloved.  
> "हमें पहले यह करना चाहिए था।." = 'hamen pahale yah karana chaahie tha..' = We should have done this before.  
> [Note that cupita is a common term of endearment for someone's wife.
> 
> [Have some 'meaningless' sex.]


	7. No use in fakin'

**Novac, Nevada**  
**November 8th, 2281**

 

Dragging herself back to Novac that time was far more difficult than the first time. She'd had ED-E with her since she had left Cottonwood Cove, the eyebot having waited patiently for her, a polite distance away, while she had  _fucked_  her husband. The eyebot was the only one who traveled with her that knew he was her husband and knew exactly what her mixed feelings about him were. 

While the eyebot seemed to have some level of AI, luckily, privacy wasn't an issue. Seemed to like her better than the others. Now she had a witness that she'd fucked her husband in a broken, unused trailer above the legion camp. Sex that had nothing to do with their marriage and everything to do with the fact that she had just tortured a man and sentenced him to crucifixion. It was fucked up. And it was probably more fucked up that she didn't care that was the reason why he'd come to her. It was even comforting that he hadn't come to her out of a sense of entitlement as her husband, but a genuine desire. 

She'd taken the long route. She'd taken nearly five days in order to get there. A short detour and gone to Black Mountain to help a Night Kin. She glanced over at the Ghoul who had joined her as a result. She gave him a wane smile. First person to join her that didn't actually hate the Legion or judge her for working with them. Despite that she wasn't even sure how long that would continue, she appreciated that.

She patted ED-E as they approached Novac. Part of her just wanted to go right back to the Strip, but she couldn't just leave Arcade and Boone there without any word. And it would be nice to spend a night in an actual bed. 

❝Gonna see if my companions are still here, probably stay the night, then head to the Strip.❞ She explained to Raul. 

❝Whatever you say, boss.❞ He replied in the somewhat snarky tone she was growing used to. She smirked at him. 

❝Still weird you call me that, most people usually call me a walking disaster, not--❞ She started, her tone teasing him in return. 

❝Mairwen! Thank God!❞ It was Arcade's voice that came to greet her. And she was too tired to jump, despite her surprise. She smiled at the taller man as he approached, putting his hands on either shoulder, just a breathe away from a hug. ❝I was worried your husband had done something and--❞

❝Hey Arcade, what--❞ She stopped again, noticing Boone trailing behind, his usual scowl somewhat deepened. It was hard to make out through the sunglasses, but it was there. ❝We should catch up, shouldn't we?❞

Their expressions confirmed her suspicion and she let out a tired sigh. She'd walked too far on too little sleep to want to deal with them worrying about her. Clearly here she was, safe. She motioned them towards her room and paused when she looked over at Raul.

❝You too. I'll make introductions when I explain.❞ She didn't want him to think she was being rude.

❝Sure thing Boss.❞ She could've sworn he smirked at her, but she didn't comment on it as they made their way to her room.

She didn't hesitate to sink onto her bed the moment she walked into the door, lying back onto the soft mattress. They settled in, fanning out around her, waiting. Arcade sat on the couch near her bed, Raul had grabbed a chair from her table. And Boone remained standing, leaning against the curio once owned by Jeannie, his arms crossed and he was practically glaring at her. She could feel it, and a quick glance at him from where she lay confirmed it.

❝Why didn't you tell me?❞ Boone, apparently, had no more patience for her hesitance. She sighed and pushed herself into a seated position. Crossing her legs onto the bed, she faced him. 

❝Arcade told ya, didn't he?❞ She looked over at the man in question, and he looked a bit guilty. He'd definitely told Boone. ❝I didn't tell you because I didn't think you'd help me if I did! I didn't know how far your hate of the Legion extended. **That** and I wasn't exactly eager to tell anyone about my connection. I only told Arcade because he was going into Hell with me.❞

❝I'm missing something here.❞ Raul's voice cut in. Mairwen looked over and gave another sigh.

❝Before I got shot in the head and became the _infamous_ Courier, I was a Legion Wife.❞ She explained, frowning. She might as well explain it all. Well, as much as she felt comfortable at this point. Which was not going to include his name. ❝Well, specifically, I'm a runaway Legion wife. My group surrendered to the Legion just about three years ago. I became a Legion slave. And, after a time, I was chosen to marry a Legion Officer. Spent a year in Flagstaff before I managed to escape.❞

❝And now you're helping them.❞ Boone didn't sound happy. It was an accusation. She let out a huff of frustration, rolling her eyes. She crossed her arms to mirror his own stance. 

❝If you **must** know, Mr. House blackmailed me into going there. He said he'd reveal to the NCR that I was a Legion Wife. Imply that I was still loyal to them. Make me a target.❞ She scowled at him and this time his expression faltered a bit. It was hard to tell with his sunglasses on; but he looked away from her as she continued. ❝I took Arcade instead of you because I wasn't there on a suicide mission. I wasn't about to go in guns blazing. Arcade has a level enough head to keep me on track. Mostly.❞

❝What took you so long to get here, though? Did your husband...❞ Arcade asked, there was some real concern in his voice. She smiled at it. She found it strange, considering he barely knew her, but she still appreciated it.

❝He was there, at the Fort, but he didn't try to hurt me or anything. Being there, surrounded by Legionaries. Hell, actually meeting Caesar and having him assume that I was just going to do as I'm told and just... That whole ordeal was... ❞ She waved vaguely, defeated, unable to find the words. ❝Too many memories from Flagstaff. So I just took the long route because I needed to blow off some steam.❞ This time she turned towards Raul, sending a smile. ❝A nightkin asked for my help and I ended up helping Raul here too. And he's agreed to join me on these little adventures. For now at least.❞

The ghoul gave a wave towards the other two men and she sighed, flopping back down unto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. ❝Can I get some sleep now? We can head back to the Strip tomorrow.❞

The three men exchanged glances, but they left without further argument. Arcade was the one to tell her he was glad she was safe before leaving the room. She heard them talk as they left, figuring out where Raul was going to stay that night. It was the first time alone she'd gotten in a few days. The first time she'd had to even try to relax in even longer.  

Benny was dead. She'd been the one to take out his tongue and she'd let the Legion crucify him. She'd liked it. Enjoyed it. The high she'd ridden from it... Had led her to _**fuck** _ her husband until she was sore. He'd barely touched her and never pressured her back in Flagstaff, but he readily came to her after Benny, he'd been _eager_ to touch her, to have her, to **fuck** her. And she'd loved it. That memory alone sent a shot of heat straight through her and she squirmed. The whole experience had been so much better than she had imagined it to be.

And imagine she had. Lonely nights at Flagstaff and she'd dived into the fantasies that they were actually a real couple. She'd laid there in his bed, coaxing her release to the thought of him, calling out his name. She'd only imagined his hands on her at first before it had progressed. It had just been fantasy to help her cope with the isolation. **Now** there was a very real memory attached. 

She shivered at the memory and rolled unto her side, letting out a shaky breath. She rolled off of the bed and headed towards the bathroom. It'd been five days since she'd had a proper bath. She'd kept herself as clean as she could with some of her waterless remedies she carried with her, including a smoke bath, but she needed a real bath now. It would give her some more time to think as she turned on the water.

She shouldn't have done it, she thought as she undressed. She had nearly been there. Nearly been able to consider herself divorced by the rules about marriage that her mother had taught her. Two years of 'desertion', starting when she'd last seen him, without any consummation. That was grounds for a divorce. She touched the mark on her forehead. Another marriage tradition from her mother. Worn since the day they married. She groaned as she slipped into the water. 

Even if the sex hadn't had anything to do with them being married, the whole thing was now officially consummated. Technically, she'd already been free. Except, by her own rules, the marriage was actually official now. 

❝I _shouldn't_ have fucked him.❞ She muttered to herself, unwinding her braid slowly. She wouldn't go so far as to say it was a mistake. That was yet to be seen, but... Not only had she legitimized their marriage, but she'd just let him cum in her. No condom, no pulling out, and she hadn't been on any sort of birth control. She was going to have to actually worry about pregnancy again. She shouldn't go for a repeat performance. ❝ **Fuck**.❞

Her hair undone, she sunk under the water. She couldn't even tell that it hadn't been leftover Stockholm. She had thought she'd been long past that. She hadn't even _seen_ him for more than a total of two months in all of the time they'd been married. She'd had that period when he'd come back to heal where she'd felt the pull of it. Loneliness and isolation had caused that though. Being stuck in Flagstaff. She hadn't felt that since. She'd thought of him sometimes, of course. When people mentioned the Legion, mentioned **him** , she'd wondered what he was up to, whether he'd discovered her absence. Whether it even bothered him.

But she hadn't missed him. She hadn't wished to see him again. She'd stopped calling out _his_ name at night. And then she'd run into him again in Nipton. She'd been willing to stab him, to kill him, to get away. And shortly after, of course, she'd _**fucked** _ him. She groaned, angry at herself. She should keep away from the Legion entirely. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've figured out a timeline for a lot of this, based on a convo with the friend whose interpretation of Vulpes is being used here, as well as figuring out game-specific locations for various places to determine travel time.  
> [I totally geeked out over location stuff.]


	8. take my money and run

**New Vegas Strip, Nevada**  
**November 11th, 2281**

❝You two go ahead to Novac, I need to take a detour to grab some stuff.❞ Mairwen said, looking at her Pip-Boy to examine her map again. She didn’t need the marker to know where she was going, but it helped calm her to go over the various routes she could go.  
  
❝Sure thing boss.❞ Raul answered, nodding. So far, he didn’t really seem to have any desire to question her on the things she asked of him. It was nice.  
  
❝Why am I dressed as you again?❞ Veronica asked, adjusting the hood tighter. Her hair was the wrong colour, and they’d used a dark red braided head-wrap worn underneath the hood to fake it. Her skin was the bigger problem. She was far to pale to actually pass for her up close. But hopefully, the bandana and goggles would be enough to fool them for long enough.

❝I’m pretty sure the Frumentarii are gonna be following us. I don’t want them to follow me to my safe house.❞ She explained as she clicked off the screen, looking up at both of them with a small smile.  
  
❝You got a safe house?❞ Raul asked her this: he didn’t look surprised, only slightly amused. 

  
❝Yea. And I want to keep Legion eyes away from it. Veronica, you go to Novac as me, help keep them off my back long enough to get some of my stuff. You’ll stay at Novac while Raul and I go to the Fort, and I’m gonna see if I can figure out my next step.❞  Her tone was matter of fact, the distraction fading from her voice as she spoke.

❝And why not take me to the Fort? I’m not scared of those misogynistic assholes.❞ Veronica was defensive at the suggestion, crossing her arms over her chest and fixing her with a flat stare. 

❝Which is great. But I don’t want to take chances. The Mark protects **me** , and while it’s _supposed_ to extend to my companions… My marriage wasn’t enough to entirely stop shit in Flagstaff. ❞ Mairwen paused and turned to look more fully at the other woman, one hand on her hip. She gestured to emphasize her point. 

❝You’re very pretty. I can’t guarantee that Caesar is going to care enough about your safety as long as you’re not dead.❞

  
Veronica visibly winced at that. She could tell the other woman was imagining what horrible things had befallen her in Flagstaff. She didn’t talk about it either way, so she only had her own imagination to go off of. If it meant that she decided to stay away from the Fort, however, she was more than happy to let that imagination run wild. 

❝I’ll meet you at Novac afterward and give you the details, okay?❞ 

This time Veronica nodded at her words. After a little bit, they left her there. She tightened the hood around her head, the head wrap underneath keeping her hair and most of her face completely covered. Her clothes were that of an average Wastelander, her shotgun slung under one arm, in easy reach. The other two had left the Lucky 38 from the front. Yes-Man had found a hidden entrance in the blueprints that let her leave through a back door, directly into Freeside.

That alone would help keep her safe from her husband’s men, but she wasn’t completely convinced that would keep her from being noticed on its own. They might not know who exactly she is, but there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t consider another person of interest somehow and follow her regardless. She stepped out into the slums and relaxed her stance. She kept some edge to her, as no one in Freeside was ever relaxed, but she didn’t send furtive glances about looking for someone following her. She simply listened and kept her eyes open as she moved. 

She had to take a long path just to get there, trying to make sure she wasn’t being followed. She knew she was safe by the time she got there. One last check as she knelt next to the table, crawling under. She pushed aside the panel and crawled in gun first. She had to fire a shot at a Mantis as she crawled in, but nothing else came to greet her. The panel slid easily back into place and for a moment she just sat there and stared at her safe house. It had been a couple months since she had been here and it looked like no one had touched it. 

She grinned in relief and took a deep breath in. The herbs she’d left had definitely dried, their scents filling the air in a comforting display of familiarity. And she set about plucking them from their spots, stuffing them into a small box for later. She brushed her fingers along the dry and brittle plants absently. She was reminded once again that she could just leave. Go back to the life she’d been living before she’d been shot. She could follow through on her plan to head East.

She moved, reaching out and her hand brushed across her rifle. She’d left it there to avoid losing it since while as working as a courier. She’d planned on picking it up before she left the Mojave. But it seemed like she’d need it now anyway. She sighed, her fingers wrapping around the barrel. This was likely going to be important. She sighed, resigned. 

Grabbing the bag she’d left there, she began stuffing it with the things she’d need from the safehouse. The herbs, part of her caps collection, some chems, and a couple of her good bottles of booze. No, she decided on the booze. She could get that later. The Lucky 38 already had plenty of its own. She didn’t need to dig into this collection just yet. Instead, she reached into a drawer and pulled out her lockpick set. It was a very rare item she’d found a while ago. Bobby pins weren’t as reliable, but this… She slipped it into her pocket with a small grin.

The eight ball sat on her the small table next to her old mattress and she stared at it for a moment. She needed an answer and it seemed as good as a place as any. She scooped it up, turning it over in her hands, her thumb rubbing over the number thoughtfully.

The Lucky 38 was hers now. With Mr. House dead and Yes Man installed, there wasn’t anyone to say that it wasn’t hers. It was secure, spacious enough for what she needed, even having room for all of her companions, and it was in the Heart of New Vegas. It was the kind of place she’d dreamed of living in years ago. And it was all hers.

But she should give it up, leave the Mojave. It was the only way to ensure that she didn’t become one of Caesar’s slaves again. Continuing this endeavour, staying in the Mojave, would _very_ likely end in one of two ways: She was going to end up back in Flagstaff, or she was going to side against the Legion. And with it, her husband. 

That was something she wasn’t sure how to feel about. She held no love for him, they barely even knew each other. But… She’d realized, tending to those scars on his back, that he was just as much a slave to Caesar as she was. That was how it all worked with the Legion, after all. 

Of course, there were ways she could do it at any time. Leave the Mojave, escape all of it. They would be enough chaos leading up to the Battle of Hoover Dam that she could do it easily, it wouldn’t be too hard. She laid down there on the ratty mattress, staring at her ceiling, and debated her options. But she didn’t know what to do. 

She’d ended up in this mess by happenstance. But part of her couldn’t stop the feeling that it was fate. Consequences for the things she’d done. Of course, she’d run into her husband when she’d been considering headed out East. She’d been set on a path to either assist or destroy him. The karmic consequences of ignoring that might be something even worse.  

She let out a long, deep sigh. She was stuck with this for now. At least until she could figure out what it took to get out from Caesar’s thumb for good.

❝What should I do?❞ The question was more to herself than to anyone else. She shook the eight ball absently, trying to get an answer. She’d been told that eight balls sometimes gave answers. This one had yet to give her any before, and this time was no different.  Nothing. ❝ **Fuck**.❞

Maybe someday she’d find one that worked. Until then… She sat up, she grabbed her bag and her rifle, all of her things. She pushed aside the panel and crawled back out of her little shack. One way or another, she was going to deal with this herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple of chapters with just Mairwen this time. Things aren't as clear after getting revenge.


	9. lookin' over me

_❝. . . Enslavement had been a gift upon them. . .❞_

It took all of her self control not to leap upon him and tear out his throat right then and there. The words sent rage and hatred burning through her veins. He didn’t even know it, but he was talking about her. Her collar, her marriage. Her time spent in Flagstaff, trapped and alone. She remembered her gilded cage. Her time as his slave. 

But she let him continue to speak. She kept such tight control of herself, intent on hiding that rage, that she forced her body to relax. It was gradual. A slight slouch to her, cracking open her hands and keeping them by her sides. She didn’t let the bright red crescent marks show, however, keeping them hidden under the table. 

She doubted Caesar would even notice. Her eyes flit to Vulpes.  _ **He**_ might though. His eyes were on her and her expression hardened before she returned her attention to the man talking. She had missed a lot of what he said. 

❝Was there anything else you wanted to know?❞ He asked at her silence, and she paused for a moment. If she just ended her conversation there, her anger might be too obvious. She couldn’t guarantee that she wouldn’t have an outburst the moment she stepped out of the tent.  

She glanced over the table at her husband again. She chewed on her lip, thinking. From what she could tell, Caesar did not know [or perhaps did not care] about her relationship. And she was curious.

❝Tell me about Vulpes Inculta.❞ She said, the curiosity in her voice sincere this time. She’d heard the rumors of him. She’d seen how he’d been at home, and twice now how he’d been in the Mojave. But she wanted to hear what his Lord thought of him. Caesar's face and tone remained the same it had during all of her other questions.

❝Vulpes is the best of my Frumentarii. A remarkable individual from an unremarkable tribe south of the Utah. He was brought into the Legion as a boy, survived training, fought well enough as a Legionary to be promoted to the rank of Decanus.❞ This was the part in his story where she had entered. She watched Vulpes out of the corner of her eye as Caesar spoke. His expression didn’t change, but she could swear that he looked pleased by the praise. She may have been imagining it, however.  ❝Then in battle against an unimportant tribe, he broke rank and led his contubernium through a hole in their defenses to capture its chieftain. Well, his Centurion wanted him crucified for disobedience. So I made him a Frumentari.❞

She stopped herself from looking over at him. That must have been when he came back to Flagstaff. He'd been so severely injured... He'd been so close to death. She had even known it had been worse before she'd seen him. She'd listened to the gossip. He'd only come home once he had been well enough to be moved.  Now she knew the story behind it. Part of it made her furious.

That the reason that he'd come close to death was because of-- what sounded like jealousy, really. But-- Caesar had chosen to save him from that fate. That was actually something she was a little pleased by. She pushed that feeling away to look at later. She shouldn't be proud of him like that. 

❝What do Frumentari do?❞ She asked, placing her hands back unto the table, linking her fingers and listening intently. 

❝Whatever I require. Infiltration, assassination, dramatic atrocities to break the spirit of the enemy - et cetera. They’re mentally flexible. They operate behind enemy lines for extended periods, imitating the enemy’s customs without becoming sullied. In all these things, Vulpes is a master.❞

This time, she did look over at him, her expression thoughtful. He was a professional liar, it seemed. Something she had her own experience with. She'd been the scout for the Buzzcocks, going ahead to talk to 'clients', finding both marks and clients. She'd taken on her own jobs more than once.

But he was a spy. A liar. A manipulator. She doubted that his time home after his "punishment" that he'd been lying, and most of his behaviour since seemed more in line with that man than the head of the Frumentari that Caesar spoke of. Except... She stopped herself there, pushed that doubt aside as well.

❝And he quickly became the head of your Frumentari because of those things, I imagine.❞ She paused, humming softly. ❝Impressive. He seems like a valuable asset.❞ This time she could see that her praise pleased him, and a small smirk tugged at the corner of her lip. 

❝Indeed he is.❞ Caesar said, also glancing over at the Frumentari.  There was a pause and Mairwen gave a small nod to the slave who came to collect their plates. ❝Now, that is all for the night. We'll discuss what you're going to do next tomorrow.❞

Mairwen stilled as Caesar rose from his seat, gesturing towards the entrance of the tent. This was worrying her, what she wasn't quite sure what that meant. She had her suspicions, but... She was hoping it wasn't true. She was going to have to verify, she realized as she stood.

❝Very well, I'll talk to the cursor about getting across the river and be back in the morning.❞ She said, rising to her feet as well. She was hoping it would be fine. She needed to get out of the Fort. It was nearly a waste of time, of course. The trip across the river was nearly three hours. She'd have maybe three hours to sleep before having to cross it again in order for the whole thing to even be feasible. Caesar's expression told her the answer before he even spoke.

❝You will be staying here for the night. My men have already escorted your ghoul to the tent you'll be staying in.❞ His tone was firm, leaving little room for argument, but that didn't really stop her. 

❝I'd really rather not. I'm not stupid. I know how the Legion views women. I know how soldiers are--❞ She frowned, crossing her arms. She was going to say more, but Caesar waved his hand, cutting her off.

❝You are wearing my mark. Are you saying that you think my men would disobey me?❞ Anger tinged his tone. ❝They know that harming you means punishment.❞

❝A camp of Legionaries. I wouldn't put it past any of them to 'conveniently' miss seeing the Mark until after the fact. Try to lie about it, say that I came onto him, perhaps believe that, since I'm a woman, that the punishment won't be too harsh. Perhaps, with their lie, they can escape it entirely. ❞ Her tone was defiant, her annoyance showing through despite her attempt to mute it, to be polite. But the panic began to rise in her throat.❝Like I said. I know soldiers. I know men. More importantly, I know how your men look at me. I'm not stupid--❞

❝Enough. You're staying here. No further discussion.❞ Caesar cut her off, his expression even angrier. She opened her mouth to protest, but it was Vulpes who spoke, having risen from his own seat at some point without her notice.

❝I will make sure she gets to her tent, my lord.❞ Vulpes said, giving a small bow. Caesar nodded at this, disappearing further into his tent. Mairwen scowled at Vulpes, but bit her tongue as he led her out through the other side. 

❝I am not staying here, Vulpes. It's not safe for me and I'm pretty sure you damn well know that. I'm not going to just sit there and--❞ She hissed at him as they made their way towards the tents. Her disdain and anger dripping off of her words. But even she could hear the panic leaking through. Her discomfort, her fear. Vulpes interrupted her this time.

❝You will stay in my tent tonight. No one will bother you there.❞ His tone held the finality that Caesar's had, but it was softer, kinder. She looked over at him, shock creeping into her expression. He glanced over at her and frowned a little bit as if confused by her expression. ❝You are my wife and our lord's Courier. Your safety is important.❞

She stared at him, stunned for a moment. She didn't bother to correct him on calling Caesar 'our' lord instead of his lord. She certainly didn't consider the man as such, but she was far more surprised by his concern for her safety. Sure, she was his wife, but now she was, as he himself had said, 'Caesar's courier', and she assumed that took precedence. He had made no mention of her safety since she had first arrived at the Fort.

And she hadn't believed he'd actually care. Not like this, at least. She knew he believed in the safety the mark offered her. That he was taking her to his tent specifically, and reassuring her that she would be safe there -- was.. Interesting. As if he really did care about her comfort. She wasn't sure whether to trust it. Maybe he just wanted a repeat of the other day. That would make sense. She considered what it might mean as he led her to a tent. He stopped and gestured towards the entrance.

❝This is where your companion is staying. Wait here for now. I have some things to attend to, but I will come back for you once I have concluded.❞ He explained. She paused, reading his face for a moment longer as he held open the flap for her. She couldn't tell his intentions really, but after a moment, she nodded and stepped into the tent. She smiled tiredly at Raul and ED-E as she stepped in.

❝Hey there Boss,❞ The ghoul grinned back at her, already relaxing on one of the chairs placed in there for them. He had an empty plate in front of him. She was glad that he'd been fed as well. The eyebot drifted over to her, and she gave a gentle pat as she walked to the other chair. ❝Sounds like we're staying here for the night. You can have first pick on beds.❞

❝I'm... Actually not sleeping in here. My husband is having me stay with him.❞ She told him, her voice low as she sunk into her seat. The ghoul stared at her expectantly for a moment and she sighed. ❝You can't be like Arcade and start blabbing, okay?❞ A nod in return. She chewed on her lip for a moment before she spoke. ❝Vulpes Inculta is my husband. Has been since he was a Decanus.❞

❝And he's making you sleep in his tent?❞ The tone in his voice was somewhere between disdain and concern. She shrugged.

❝I'm pretty sure I could refuse, stay here instead. But I'm taking his offer because he's right. It'd be safer in there. Guarantee no one tries anything.❞ She explained. The ghoul gave her a skeptical look. She sighed. ❝He's never hurt me, never done me wrong, strange as that may seem. But... I don't know. I think that I'll be able to sleep well enough, at least.❞

❝Might want something from ya, Boss.❞ The way he said 'something' spoke volumes.

And she nodded with a sigh. She wasn't sure how she felt about that just yet. The sex they'd had the other day had been amazing, but she didn't want to get further involved with him. He'd never pressured her before, but they hadn't had sex yet at that point. And most of their time together had been while he was healing from near death wounds.

But it wouldn't be the first time that a man like him decided that he needed some stress relief. And she wasn't sure whether she'd want to turn him down if he suggested it. It was something she probably should determined ahead of time, but she'd rather not think on it too much.

They passed the next couple of hours chatting, discussing the Legion, what she should do moving forward. He gave opinions and a couple suggestions, but it gave her very little direction. She shouldn't have to be the one deciding these things. She shouldn't even be involved in any of this. But she'd already made a choice.

The discussion had lulled and she'd pulled out a book by the time that Vulpes returned to the tent. She hadn't even noticed his entrance until he stood in front of her. His expression was unreadable, but she gave him a small smile, closing her book. She didn't have to ask as he stepped away, letting her stand. She grabbed her bag and followed him.

It was late, the sky dark, so it was harder to tell where he was leading her, but he held the flap of another tent open. Slightly bigger than the one she'd been in with Raul. Nicer inside too. And, she noted with relief, a full tub, steam drifting from it. She looked over at him, hopeful.

❝Can I...?❞ She asked him, gesturing. He nodded, moving towards a table in the corner, paperwork spread out across the table. She smiled and didn't hesitate to undress, pulling out her things as she went. Undoing her hair, taking off her clothes, gathering her soaps in her arms.

She paused when she felt his eyes on her, her clothing mostly off, and she glanced over. His eyes were on her. On her body. She could feel herself flush, but she noticed exactly where his eyes were resting. She rubbed a hand over her stomach and the three jagged scars that ran across them. She looked away from him. She shivered slightly at the memory. ❝I... A few years ago I had a run-in with a Deathclaw. I survived, obviously.❞

This time his eyes moved her face instead and she connected with his gaze. He didn't seem disgusted with her scars. But there seemed a bit of awe in his expression. She gave him a wane smile before she made it the rest of the way to the tub. He, in turn, turned his attention back to the papers he had laid out.  He didn't say anything to her about the scars. And she was grateful for it. 

She rubbed her scars again before she sank into the water, submerging herself under the water. She held her breath, grateful for the warmth it provided. It eased her sore muscles from walking most of the day and from the stress. She held her breath for as long as she could before she came back out, gasping for breath with a smile. She leaned over the edge of the tub to grab her things and could've sworn that his eyes had been on her again, but when she looked, he was at his papers just as he had been before. 

❝Thank you.❞ She said, quietly, putting some of her salts into the bath before working some shampoo into her hair. She watched him and he didn't even look over at her when she spoke.

❝I thought you would want to bathe.❞ His words were matter of fact, he was scribbling away on his paperwork still, and she raised an eyebrow slightly. 

❝That, but... I mean for letting me stay in your tent tonight.❞ She clarified, dunking her head under the water to wash off the shampoo. 

❝You are my wife.❞ His tone remained matter of fact, just like his last ones had been. She chewed her lip, unsure of what to say to him about it. She was still unsure of if he wanted more from her. She watched him for a moment, resting her arms on the edge of the tub. She tilted her head slightly, appraising him. She sighed, grabbing her soap to scrub herself instead, choosing not to reply. 

❝Do you mind if I wash my clothes in here? Do you need to take a bath as well?❞ She asked as she finished up. She knew what she'd used wouldn't damage her clothes. She paused. 

❝I do, but go ahead.❞ He answered, continuing his work. She smiled at his back, but stepped out of the tub to grab her clothes, dripping onto the floor. She used the towel he'd left for her on her hair, patting it to some sense of dry before wrapping it around herself and picking up her clothes. She grabbed the other wooden chair next to his desk, earning a glance from him, and moved to the edge of the tub to clean the clothes she'd worn that day.

They sat there in silence as he worked and she cleaned her clothing, and she kept glancing up at him. He'd said he'd find her after he had finished his work, so she was curious as to why he was still working despite bringing her there. It was like their life back in Flagstaff. He was keeping his distance from her, not imposing anything. She considered it as she wrung out her clothes, hanging them off of the back of the chair and over the seat to let them dry. 

That was when she walked over to him, stopping by her bag to pull out some of the 'sleep clothes'. She slipped them on and came to stand next to him. She looked down at him for a moment, gently, she reached down and touched his head, brushing her fingers through his hair. He looked up at her, surprised by the touch.  She said nothing for a moment.

❝The bath is yours. I'm going to sleep.❞ She said, her voice quiet as she tried to search his expression. Still wanting to figure out what his intent was. He nodded at her and she stepped away. She wasn't sure why she'd even gone to touch him like that. Why she had reached out. 

She sat on his bed, watching him as he undressed and bathed from the corner of her eye as she dried and braided her hair. He washed much quicker than she had, she noticed, and she was still awake by the time he came to join her. She tensed slightly, expecting him to reach out to her. But he didn't, just like he hadn't before, back at Flagstaff. 

She hummed quietly as she noticed it, but took it for what it was and let herself sleep curled up next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a slower chapter here between the two of them. She has so many mixed feelings still. Have fun with that.


	10. in a sea of blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> break for violence.  
> also. here to credit my friend whose [interpretation of Vulpes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14898539) these drabbles are using.

**Unknown, Mojave Desert**  
**November 19th, 2281**

 

Mairwen let the knife dance across her knuckles, humming softly to herself as she stood above him, looking down at him.  
  
❝This is just _not_ your day, is it love?❞  She purred as she leaned forward towards him, her heel pressing against his throat. It earned her a rasping cry, which only made a chesire smile spread lazily across her lips. ❝I’m not in a very forgivin’ mood for your kind, ya see.❞

Slavers. Raiders. **Murderers**. 

She was a fucking **hypocrite** for it, but she also didn’t fucking **_care_**. 

The anger and the rage and the fear that came _**every**_ year on this day flowed through her like fire, burning her to her core. She needed to vent it out somehow, let it run its course. She’d known what day it was the moment she’d woken up. Her nightmare was the thing that tipped her off. 

The details were fading from her mind as the day carried on, but she knew what it was. She had the same one every year. It always started with her father’s death. She’d snuck into the infirmary and she’d seen his body. His last moments. Then it changed to her own surgery. The pain that went through her, keeping her in bed for a month. Saying goodbye to her sister. That part always hit her the hardest. 

She hadn’t planned to leave the Vault the day before her birthday. The opportunity had just presented itself. The caravan had needed to come inside of the Vault. They’d had a cart just big enough for her to slip into without being noticed, even with all of her things. They’d planned to go far enough away from her Vault that there wouldn’t be much risk of patrols coming after her. But it hadn’t gone as planned when she’d gotten out into the Wasteland. The caravan had been attacked. 

She pushed the memories away _**viciously**_. 

It had set a precedent for her time in the Wasteland. The birthdays since hadn’t gotten much better. 

So this was how she spent them to soothe her soul. Hunting the fucking **shits** of the Wasteland that preyed on others. The man underneath her heel gurgled, trying desperately to breathe and she leaned back. She had forgotten herself for a moment. 

❝You have two options, really. You can tell me where the rest of your group is, or I can pull that from you.❞ She gave him enough room to speak, but she already knew what was going to happen before she even clarified. ❝I’m going to kill you either way, so it’s not like you have anything to lose by giving them up.❞

And he saw the logic in that. She almost felt disappointed. She listened to his words halfheartedly. The directions he gave, the numbers of his comrades. Everything he said sounded as if he was desperately hoping that if he played nice she might change her mind and just let him go.

But she kept to her word, and when he’d told her where the others were hiding, she moved her boot from his neck, driving her knee into her chest as she knelt on top of him. She didn’t let him move. It wouldn’t have done much to let him try either way. She’d already shot his legs and tied his arms.

With an empty grin, she pressed the blade into his skin, driving it into his neck in what was meant to be a quick, clean stroke. But he flinched, and despite that she was insisting on using her blade, she wasn’t very strong. His resistance slowed her progress, and he screamed in pain, the noise quickly replaced by the strained gurgle of his blood being pushed through the wound. 

Her shirt already had blood on it when she pulled away. She frowned heavily at the realization. ❝ _Gaandu_.❞ 

She grabbed at the edge of his shirt and dabbed at the blood on her own, trying to get rid of at least some of it. After a moment, she gave up, accepting it for what it was. His struggle reminded her of her limitations, however. 

She sheathed her knife and grabbed her shotgun instead, her rifle a heavy weight on her shoulder. That was new, too. A birthday present to herself. She’d spent the night before in the Tops finishing _earning_ the money for it from the tables. She was going to make use of it if she could. 

From what the man had told her, she might have a chance to take his ‘friends’ out without much trouble. Well, hopefully, there would still be **some** trouble. This one had already taken the easy route mostly. Target practice alone would be rather _boring_. 

❝Let’s see how this goes, shall we?❞ She said it to herself, the man on the ground beside her already dead. No point in actually saying anything to him anymore. She shrugged and gave the body a kick, watching as it twitched.

She was going to see just how honest he’d been, and how much these fuckers lived up to their reputations.

It was hours later when she came back to the Strip, the painful energy and desire to escape the memories still running through her. The group had kind of acted as surrogates for her anger, but it hadn’t cleared her mind, nor had it taken the rest of the day. She’d managed to get it done so quickly and efficiently they hadn’t known what hit them. She hadn’t even gotten her hands dirty with the deed. There was still light stretching across the Mojave. She could go back to storing all that hate away tomorrow, but right then… 

She stepped into the Lucky 38 and immediately made her way to the Cocktail lounge. She was determined to clear the memories from her head one way or another. And the bottle was definitely an effective method.


	11. and i'm gettin' older

**Unknown, Mojave Desert**   
**November 19th, 2281**

 

She was already out of the Strip when she noticed him. She knew that she hadn't done a great job at avoiding detection when she'd left. Wearing one of her more expensive dresses just for the fuck of it, while carrying only her courier bag, a combat knife, and her rifle, a bottle of booze in hand, was not exactly the most covert way to leave the Strip. So she'd half expected someone to follow her. She'd even had a couple thugs come at her on her way out. Smashing their faces with the butt of her rifle did the trick.  
  
She just hadn't expected it to be _**him**_. Maybe she should have. He seemed to have that ability. She didn't really want to deal with him and his talk of the Legion, so she couldn't look at him directly, even as he approached. She just took another swig of her wine as she walked, not bothering to wait for him.

It wasn't long before he caught up with her, stopping her from taking yet another swig with a hand on her wrist. She shot him a bleary glare. Most of a bottle of wine and she was definitely drunk. And his expression was hard as he met her gaze.  
  
 ❝What do you **want** , _husband_?❞  She nearly spat out the word, trying to pull her wrist back from his grip.  
  
❝What are you doing?❞ His voice was even, but she could hear the edge of anger in his words. She scowled.  
  
❝Celebrating my birthday. What does it **look** like?❞ She told him, her words harsh and bitter. His gaze moved towards the bottle of wine in her hand. ❝With a couple bottles.❞  
  
❝You shouldn't be drinking that.❞ He said, and moved to grab the bottle. She pulled away from him, but as she moved, her arm seized with pain, her old scars sending a shock through to her hands and she dropped the bottle. It hit the ground and shattered at her feet, the red splashing against the hem of her dress.  
  
She looked up at him, scowling and rubbing her arm. ❝I wanted to finish that!❞

❝You'll feel better if you don't drink such things. ❞ He scolded her, once again grabbing her wrist, but this time he was gentle, checking her arm where she'd been rubbing at it.  
  
She winced as he touched it, the pain still lingering. She watched him trail his long, calloused fingers along her scars with awe. The feeling was comforting, soothing, and sent a shiver down her spine. He was being **far** too gentle with her.  
  
❝I'd feel better if I never did a lot of things.❞ she muttered under her breath. The words slipping out of their own accord, more to herself than to him.

She pulled away from him again, this time far more carefully. Part of her was loathe to remove herself from his touch. And **that** was what bothered her. Her scowl this time was weaker, but she began walking away from him. After a moment, she reached into her bag and pulled out another bottle: absinthe this time.  
  
He saw her pull it out and caught up to her quickly, snatching the bottle out of her hand and smashing it against the ground, hard. She had to stumble back to avoid the glass shattering as the green liquor spilt across the ground. She took another step back, but he was upon her quickly, grabbing her bag from her side with ease. She gave a shout of protest and reached forward to take it back, but he dug into it, stepping away as he pulled out another two bottles (one scotch and one beer) and tossed them against the ground. Less force than before, but the damage was still done. All of her booze was gone.  
  
❝What the _**fuck**_ , Vulpes?❞ This time, she did yell at him for it. Satisfied that there wasn't anything else in her bag that was 'bad' for her, he held it out for her. Angrily, she snatched it back from him, glaring at him, urging him to answer.  
  
❝I am not going to let you poison yourself.❞ He was still scolding her and she hated it.  
  
❝Not even going to let me celebrate my birthday however I want?❞ She snapped, slinging her bag back over her shoulder. ❝Why am I even surprised?❞  
  
She glared at him, meeting his gaze evenly, challenging him. He didn't look away. His expression steady. It was clear to see that he was convinced that he was in the right. And she wasn't really surprised by that. She was the one who looked away instead, turning and stomping away.  
  
❝Whatever. I guess I have to sober up. I'm still gonna wander. Join me. Or don't. Up to you ❞ She huffed at him, once again not waiting for him to follow. This was nothing like she'd intended. She wanted to be angry at him for it, but she couldn’t bring her anger to face him.  
  
Every year since she had left home, she'd spent it **alone**. Usually drunk. The only time in _years_ that she hadn't been completely shit faced for her birthday had been when she'd been in Flagstaff. No booze, no chems. _**Nothing**_. Having to actually spend it with herself and her memories.  
  
And barely three months after she'd been sold off and abandoned, just her and the house women. She'd found other ways to ruin herself that day. But she'd spent most of it locked away, crying: bloody and bitter.  
  
She'd still been self-destructive though, of course. She'd _**ran** _ right into a fight with a higher Legion officer. Decanus? Centurion? She didn’t remember. Part of it had been a desire to deal with the painful memories through violence, and part of it was to give them a reason to see her as 'tamed'.

He'd beat her worse than she'd imagined he would, since he’d been somewhat kind to her before. She was sure she'd broken a couple of her ribs at the very least, likely with other breaks or fractures and she'd been covered in bruises for weeks afterward. She'd been told that she'd _only_ been spared because of her husband.  
  
Tears at the memories stung at her eyes. She'd already begun to feel the isolation then. And the silence that stretched between them only emphasized that feeling for her. So she spoke.  
  
❝I left the Vault on my birthday... Fourteen years ago now?❞ She said, her voice quiet. She didn't look over at him, but she knew he heard her. ❝The Vaults **all** fucking _suck_ , from what I understand. Experiments and shit.❞  
  
She could hear the slurring in her voice. And the _bitterness_. He didn't reply to her, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see him walking next to her.

 The liquor was loosening her tongue. She chewed on her lip. She didn't like sharing. Telling people your secrets made you vulnerable. They could use it against you. It wasn't smart. Except... Why the fuck not?  It was actually a bit of a relief. To actually have someone there to listen to her pain right then.  
  
❝I've been looking out for myself since. Depending on people gets you killed.❞ He didn't touch her, but she felt his presence move closer at her words and she glanced over at him, catching his eye just a moment before he spoke.  
  
❝I will not let that happen.❞ His words were firm, confident. A promise. It didn't make sense to her. Not in the least. She frowned and continued to walk, quietly, thinking about what he was saying, what he was implying.  
  
❝I don't even _understand_ you. Like. I know how most of the Legionaries treat their wives. I **saw** it in Flagstaff. Their bruises. Averted gazes...❞ Her face contorted with anger as she spoke. Others hadn't bothered her too often because of her husband. Only those his own rank or higher had any sort of willingness to cross her husband. ❝I'd assumed that if you'd been home, you woulda been the same. But no, when you came back to Flagstaff...❞  
  
She waved awkwardly, gesturing at him and suddenly unable to figure out what she wanted to say. She let out a noise of frustration.  
  
❝I didn't expect to run into you again. _**Ever**_.❞ She spoke quietly, stopping suddenly and realizing where she had wandered to. Her safehouse. She hadn't meant to. She didn't want him to know where it was. She would just have to hope he wouldn't figure out what it was.  
  
She went towards the picnic table there, climbing onto it and watching him. His gaze was pensive, as if considering what to say, what to do. She considered him for a moment before patting on the table next to her, inviting him to join her. He nodded and moved to sit next to her. It was a moment before he spoke.  
  
❝Did you wish for that?❞ He asked her. His voice was serious, and when she met his gaze, it was unreadable. But... There was _something_ in his tone.  
  
She shrugged and didn't answer, looking away from him. She didn't know the answer, really. She knew she never wanted to go back to Flagstaff, to deal with that isolation, those stifling restrictions and rules. Even if he was there with her. A gilded cage was the best it could ever be.  
  
She'd mostly thought of never seeing him again as a side effect of never going back to Flagstaff. She leaned back, laying down onto the table and stared at the sky.  
  
❝I'm glad you're not what I was expecting.❞ She looked over at him then, meeting that gaze of his that was beginning to become familiar, and she gave him a small, bleary smile.  
  
This time when the silence stretched out between them, it was more comfortable. He was sitting up next to her, scanning the horizon around them. He was on alert, as if watching for a threat. He'd said he wouldn't let her get killed, and there he was, on watch while her drunk ass lay there watching the stars.  
  
It made her smile slightly, and she hadn't even realized that she'd reached out to touch his arm until his gaze turned back towards her, his expression questioning, as if waiting for her to say something. For a moment she didn't, but she turned her attention back to the sky and they sat in silence for awhile.

Something tugged at her mind, and with the alcohol still coursing through her system, she sat up and turned towards him.  
  
❝Why the **fuck** are you here anyway?❞ The question must have caught him off guard, because she could easily read the confusion on his face, even in her state. Before he could ask, she clarified, gesturing around them. ❝You smashed my booze, you saw I don't have any chems, and I'm just... It's not like you--❞  
  
She stopped herself short, biting her lip and looking away from him. Anger was beginning to well back up in her. The whole situation again was rearing up in her mind. This was the man who she'd been forced to marry. The one she'd ran away from. He hadn't even been told about that because it had been deemed too unimportant to him. Or something. She wasn't sure.   
  
He was sitting there, waiting for her unfinished thought. She let out a frustrated sigh. That infuriated her too. She'd heard such terrible things of him, expected them to be focused on her. She'd seen the truth of them, even. But instead, he was sitting there, patient, as if, as if...  
  
❝This whole relationship is a fucking _**lie**_. It's not like you fucking care. So I don't know why you're fucking pretending.❞ The words had meant to only have anger come out with them, but even she could hear the sadness lacing them. She went to push herself off of the table, but his hand on her arm stopped her. She turned towards him with a glare. But part of her hoped.  
  
❝We are married. That is not a lie.❞ She waited for him to say more. She wanted him to. Say something besides the bland, emotionless answer he had given her.  
  
But he didn't. She pulled her arm away, tried to, angry at him. But he didn't let her. She got off the table, but he slid down to the edge and wrapped an arm around her waist instead, keeping her trapped. She pushed against his shoulders, trying to push him away, but it didn't make much difference. She swore at him, frowning.  
  
❝काश तुम एक राक्षस थे। ❞ She muttered.

It wasn't a hug, she knew that he was just keeping her from running away [again], but even that... She sank into his touch, leaning against him, her free hand going to touch his head, running her fingers through his short hair. She sighed as she met his gaze. She hated not being able to read him. ❝Whatever you say, _pati_.❞  
  
She didn't even understand him enough to know how to argue the response he'd given her. It was true, after all. He just nodded and stood, letting go of her waist.  
  
❝I will take you back to the Strip.❞ Again, she wanted to argue. It was her fucking birthday, wasn't it? She should be free to do whatever she wanted. But she couldn't really bring herself to. With a shrug, she followed him, keeping her eyes on the stars as best she could as they walked. Wondering why she didn't just run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> काश तुम एक राक्षस थे। = I wish you were a monster.  
> Pati = husband. [ will appear in roman alphabet ]
> 
> I'm so glad everyone is loving this! Kudos and comments keep me going. <3


	12. on my knees i’m prayin’

**The Strip, New Vegas**   
**November 19th?, 2281**

 

Mairwen slipped out of her dress the moment they walked into the High Roller Suite, leaving bother the clothing and her weapons discarded on her way further into the room. He followed behind her in silence. She’d gone to the Tops instead of the 38, despite that Mr. House was now dead because she just didn’t trust him enough to let him into that life.  
  
But **here**? Here was easy. There was nothing here that she needed to worry about him finding. Nothing worth finding even there, the room was new for her. This was her first time actually using it. She’d gotten it the same time she’d won the money for her new rifle. She simply walked around the suite without her clothing, barely glancing over at him as she surveyed it.

  
But she _**felt**_ his eyes on her. _Watching_ her, and she felt herself flush. It wasn’t as if this was the first time she had been naked around him. Indeed, he’d seen her naked a few times now, between Flagstaff, their sex, and her stay at the Fort. But she’d stripped without a second thought this time. _No hesitance_. And she didn’t even have the liquor to blame anymore, either.  
  
She kept her back to him though as they moved, taking in the entire suite. Finally having inspected it, she moved towards the bedroom and just fell face first into the bed. It was softer than she imagined it would be. Not as soft as her bed at the 38. But close. It seemed like all of the casinos on the Strip were designed for comfort.  
  
❝It appears to be safe.❞ His voice caught her attention and reminded her that he was there. She turned over to face him, propping herself up on her elbows. Again that familiar unreadable expression. She chewed on her lip, deciding. He began to turn, began to move away, and she leaned forward, reaching towards him. Her hand was gently gripping his hand before she realized what she was _doing_.  
  
❝Did you… Um.❞ She started. She felt shy. **She** , of _**all**_ people, felt _shy_ in that moment. Even as she sat there naked. ❝Can you stay?❞  
  
She looked up at him for a moment, but almost couldn’t hold eye contact with him. She pulled him closer, leaning forward to rest her face against his stomach, wrapping her arms around his waist. It almost felt strange to see him in the suit instead of his armor, but it allowed her to feel his heat and his body beneath the fabric. One of his hands buried into her hair, while the other wrapped around her shoulder.  
  
❝I will stay, cupita.❞ He said. She couldn’t tell if she imagined it or not, but his voice _seemed_ softer than most of his words had been that night.  
  
❝Thank you.❞ She muttered against him, and let out a contented hum.  
  
It had been a **long** time since someone had stayed with her for her birthday. And he had even listened to her. She’d only touched on that time when she’d left, but he had listened. And he’d _told_ her that he wouldn’t let her get killed. In general, or for getting close to him, she didn’t know. And she didn’t even know why. She wanted to believe it wasn’t just an automatic answer, a response not born out of genuine desire to keep her safe, but duty because of their circumstances. She wasn’t going to ask.  
  
She **_wanted_** to believe he cared. Even if it wasn’t true. That was the thought that moved her hands, reaching under his shirt. Her fingers brushed across his back just under his scars and she felt him tense. She moved her hands instead to his front, wary of the scars across his back. He relaxed under her touch this time, and she could feel him staring down at her as she pulled back. Just enough to unbutton his shirt.  
  
She worked slowly, fingers working from the bottom up. And with **each** button she undid, she pressed a _kiss_ against his skin. She could feel the sharp intake of his breath with the gesture, and his hand tightening in her hair. She reached the top button, shifting her legs under her to reach him better. She splayed her hands across his chest and met his gaze.  
  
Her smile was **_sly_** , but her intent was clear enough. He ducked down, hand moving from her shoulder to her back, and kissed her, leaning forward and pressing her back into the bed. She pushed his shirt and his jacket back, off of his shoulders to fall off of him and onto the bed. This time, she wanted him naked as well. She wasn’t going to dwell on the why of it.  
  
She moaned quietly as he bit at her bottom lip, arching her body into his. She shuffled back with him, further onto the bed. Once they settled, her hands moved to his belt, deftly undoing his belt and his zipper, pushing his pants off of his hips.  
  
As she felt the skin there, her fingers dug into his hips, savouring the feeling of his muscle underneath her hands. The motion made him bite at her lips again with a **groan**. The sound encouraged her and she reached down, running the palm of her hand against his cock. He was already hard beneath her. She wrapped her hand around him, stroking him, encouraging him closer with the movement.  
  
His mouth moved to her shoulder and bit gently, making her _gasp_ at the feeling.  
  
❝Please…❞ She muttered as he pulled away, moving down along her body. She wanted to keep him close, to keep his body against hers, and she reached down, meaning to pull him back towards her, but she felt him nip at her thigh and instead she gasped again her back arching.  
  
He bit at her other thigh and she moaned, her grip tightening on his shoulders. His hands held her thighs down, and he trailed the bites until he reached her cunt. He ran his tongue along her folds, long languid strokes, and she could feel his eyes on her, watching her as she writhed. He slipped a finger into her, then two, stroking her as he moved his mouth to her clit, sucking on it.  
  
❝Vos gustum mirabile.❞ She could hear his words against her as he pulled back just enough to look up her. She met his gaze, and something in her curled, tightened.  
She writhed, arching her hips at him, urging him forward.❝ **Fuck** , Vulpes.❞  
  
He just smirked at her and bent down to bite at her thigh again. Harder this time. He slipped in another finger and increased his pace, keeping her hips pinned, keeping her from pulling away. She cried out as she came, his fingers curled inside of her, stroking, coaxing it out of her, other hand digging into the soft skin of her hip, fingers bruising.  
  
As he withdrew his fingers, he paused to nip at her thigh, eliciting a gasp as he moved back up her body. He kept his thumb on her clit, gently pressing on the sensitive nerves as he positioned himself.  
  
❝Ita paratum me, cupita…❞ She pulled him down by the back of his neck, bringing him into a kiss as he thrust into her. She gasped into the kiss and he bit her lip, leaning back. He pulled nearly out of her before thrusting into her again, harder this time. Her hips bucked to meet his, and they began a steady rhythm.  
  
Her fingers dug into his arms as he moved, occasionally ducking down to nip and bite at her exposed skin. Wrapping her a leg over his hip to position herself better, she moaned, swearing, as he hit deeper inside of her.  
  
Again, he **_wasn’t_** gentle, moving against her roughly, gripping her tightly, hands moving from her hips to her ass, to her side, to fisted into her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck. And he bit her there. She _cried out_ , nearly a scream, feeling herself coming closer, their hips slamming together.  
  
She _**swore**_ in an eager _mantra_ , the words slurring together, stumbling over each other as she **clung** to him, holding against him as she arched into him, eyes closed, head fallen back. And he moved his thumb to her clit again and she came undone, calling out to him, barely hearing his words as he spoke. ❝Vos ecce pulchra.❞  
  
It wasn’t long before he followed, having held back just long enough to see her cum first. He thrust once more into her, hard, before he stilled and she felt him shudder against her, his face dipping down to her neck as he bit down, hard enough to leave a mark. Her fingers dig into his biceps as she moans, arching into him again, already wanted to feel more of him.  
  
He began to pull away, but she stopped him with a hand on the side of his face and propped herself up to capture his lips. Wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her, he returned the kiss, quickly, catching her bottom lip as he pulled away. He paused for only a moment to smirk at her. It was the same smirk that he’d given the first time she’d kissed him, and of all things to affect her, that did.  
  
Her skin _flushed_ as she let herself fall back onto the bed, letting out a quiet laugh. At least he didn’t give her a confused look this time. But she wondered if he understood what was amusing her so much about it.  
  
There she was, having sex with a husband she’d never wanted. Again. Just because he was there. Because he’d listened to her on one of her worst days. She didn’t think it was really because he cared for her. They certainly didn’t know each other well enough for that. Once again, the idea that she had sought him out hadn’t been for real intent crossed her mind, but she pushed it away.  
  
It wasn’t **time** to worry about such things, really. She laid there, the sound of the tub lulling her into a comfortable, contented mood. She considered just joining him in that tub, continuing what they’d just finished, go for another round.  
  
But the day had made her tired. She should bathe before going to sleep, but the bed was comfortable. With considerable effort she pulled herself out. She used the shower as he finished, feeling his eyes on her, but largely ignoring it save for a glance over at him, her smirk playful and teasing.  
  
Eventually, she settled into the bed next to him, finding herself curled against his side, not quite holding unto him save for a hand gently wrapped against his arm as he laid on his stomach, already asleep by the time she joined him.


	13. i'll walk the line

**The Strip, New Vegas**   
**November 20th, 2281**

 

She woke when he did the next morning, without any idea of how long they’d slept. The doubt crept in quickly as she sat up and stared at him, connecting her nakedness to what they had done the night before. She was supposed to keep her distance. Keep herself from getting attached to him, from letting it become a thing. As with every other morning they’d shared a bed for the night, he barely paid her any mind as he got up and went about getting ready.  She wasn’t sure if it bothered her this time since they had had sex the night before. She wouldn’t have cared one wit if he had been a hook-up. But this was her husband [as unwillingly as they’d been married].

And she sat there for a long time, naked in the bed, her knees pulled up, and watched him. She wondered if she should say something. If she should do something. She also wondered if he’d say or do anything. The questioning was eating away at her gut. Resting her chin on her knees, she decided on a little honesty.

❝I could have left after I woke up in Goodsprings.❞ That was perhaps too much honesty. It caused him to stop what he was doing and turn towards her. She stared at him, though, meeting his gaze. as she continued. ❝Even if you’d known I’d run away, I was dead.❞

She’d seen her grave. Known she’d crawled out of it and been dragged by Victor to Doc’s place. She could have woken up and left. Headed North, out of the Mojave. The bullet hadn’t done anything to her memory. It only gave her the chance to escape.

And she hadn’t taken it. It was something that bothered her still. He was staring down at her, that damnedable expression on his face. She let out a frustrated huff, shaking her head.

Before he could speak, she pushed the blankets off of her, standing out of the bed in a rush of frustration. She knew it was so near what she had said to him the night before.

❝Just… _Nevermind_.❞ She muttered as she walked to the wardrobe. Although the room was new, there were clothes in there, hanging on racks. Men’s and women’s.  Came with the room, they’d mentioned it when she’d won it. She got dressed quickly, ignoring him.

She felt his eyes on her throughout. And he was still wearing that same expression when she turned. She kept the frustration from her face as much as she could. She was unsure if she truly succeeded. She glanced away from him, still frowning slightly.

❝I’m seeing if I can make contact with the Boomers.❞ She told him. Back to business. It was easier that way. That was clear. She could treat it like a job. Something impartial.

The expression she didn’t recognize melted away and he nodded. He went from her husband to the head of the Frumentarii just like that. That made things easier. She let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She relaxed a little bit, falling into the easy smile and cocky posture that she wore like armour.

❝I will inform Caesar.❞ He nodded at her words and she hummed in return, sitting back down on the bed and watching him.

She fought with herself over how to handle him: as a husband or as an enemy. To her, he fell under neither and the illusion of both. She was so lost in her thoughts it took her a moment to realize he was once again standing in front of her. She stared up at him, the small frown on her face turning into a small smile. Not quite forced, except… She couldn’t convince herself it was genuine, her mind too muddled.

There was a long moment where they simply stared at each other like that: she knew it was only seconds long, but in her mind, it stretched out, broken only when he leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers. She could tell he’d meant it to be quick, because as soon as his lips brushed hers, he began to pull away, but her hands darted forward and gripped his shirt. Pulling him forward, she deepened the kiss, running her tongue along his bottom lip.

She moaned into it as he bit at her bottom lip, trying to bring him closer while she raised herself towards him. She needed to stop thinking, and there he was, kissing her and– He pulled back.

The cocky smirk he only seemed to give in moments like this met her when she opened her eyes. She blinked, confused for a moment, the frown gently pulling the corners of her mouth downward. He stood up and she let go of his clothing as he stepped back, waiting.

❝I’m returning to the Fortress.❞ His tone was matter of fact. She wouldn’t have argued with him either way, but somehow it stung. She pushed that away. It was beyond stupid.❝I hope you can finish your work for Caesar soon and return home to Flagstaff.❞

Anger and frustration flared up in her at his words, and she wanted to argue, but he was already walking away from her. She scowled at his retreating figure and bit her tongue. It was a reminder. That she didn’t quite have her freedom, even here in New Vegas. And it sent a wave of sorrow through her.

She knew that even without knowing she was Vulpes’ wife, Caesar believed he all but owned her. If he had that knowledge, he would, in his mind, know that he did. She would not get even the few freedoms she was afforded as the Courier. As far as he and her husband believed, she belonged to Caesar: to the Legion. 

She just wasn’t sure if her husband didn't also believe that **he** owned her as well. 

The uncertainty soured her mood as she gathered her things, leaving the Tops behind and heading to the Lucky 38 for some time to think, and to bring someone with her to meet the Boomers. She needed to start keeping ED-E with her regardless. 

It was the sniper that hat greeted her when she returned, a troubled look on his face. He was suspicious of her. Had been since learning of who her husband was. She kept it from him that she had gone to the Fort again and the others hadn’t told. She frowned back and almost knew what his question was. 

❝I spent the night at the Tops.❞ She explained, feeling like a child. ❝I wanted to spend my birthday alone.❞ 

He paused for a moment, surely caught off guard. It was the truth. She just didn’t say that she had run into her husband. His frown looked guilty this time. Though perhaps she was imagining it. 

❝Are we going to see the NCR headquarters today?❞ He asked, deflecting his previous, unspoken question.

 ❝Maybe. I need to make sure we’re not followed by any Frumentarii.❞ It was only partially a lie this time. She did need to see what they knew, if nothing else. She worried, though. ❝Don’t say anything about my husband. I need to keep that from being used against me. By anyone.❞

He nodded. At least that he seemed to understand just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added a sketch of Mairwen in Flagstaff to the beginning of Chapter 2! I might be adding more pictures to each chapter.
> 
> On another note, I've been covering a decent amount of the game events so far, but since most of you have played it, I'm going to be glazing over the stuff that isn't particularly important. [Especially specific to her as a Legion wife and relationship with Vulpes.]


End file.
